


Lament of Miss Muffet

by RobitRabbit



Series: A Sorry Collection From Grim Mother Goose [1]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: A lot of painful things, Anxiety Attacks, Ashley's having a rly rough time okay, Everyone dies and I am so sorry, Gen, Mental Health (or the lack thereof), Oops, Panic Attacks, Potential suicide mention, Schizophrenia mention, Sole Survivor, The sadistic part of my soul is joyous but the rest of me hurts, Until they're dead friends - Freeform, friends being friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 88,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5130620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobitRabbit/pseuds/RobitRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry... I'm so so so so sorry..." She said it every night. Said it to the girls on the mountain, hoping with every minuscule piece of her being that they would accept it. That they'd take it all back and she could wake up in the morning and her friends, no matter how distant they may have been now, were still alive.</p><p>Still breathing, still living, still 'there'.</p><p>~~~</p><p>Ashley recounts what happened on the mountain, and the decisions and mistakes she made as she explained it to the rangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Wise Old Owl

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever posted on the web, pls be gentle I am new to widespread criticism.
> 
> This is sole-survivor Ash. If it does well, I'ma end up doin' sole-survivor for all of them hopefully.
> 
> Lemme know what u think~

It was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a weekend where they could be close again, remember the ones they'd lost but remember them _well_. They were going to be friends again, hang out again, try and address all of those pent-up feelings about that elephant that had been in the room with each and every one of them any time they saw one another for the past _year_. Maybe work towards some closure. That was what Josh needed- that was what they all needed. That was what they all _wanted_. They couldn't have known. None of them could have known.

And sitting alone in a cold, dim room in the ranger station after that night of Hell, Ashley had still been finding it difficult to really drill that realization into her head while she'd waited for them to come in and start the camera and ask their questions. The realization that they _couldn't_ have known anything and they _couldn't_ have prevented it. She'd thought about what she'd tell them, tried to rehearse it all in her head, but there was so much to say, and so much she couldn't say... What all would they believe? She'd spent half the night running and hiding from wendigo and even then still wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. So she figured that maybe she'd start with Josh then... She couldn't pin it all on him, she wouldn't have. With all he'd done to them he still didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve any of it. But at least he was a person, and they would believe the things a person could do. She remembered stabbing him, she stabbed the Psycho... They'd believe that too. But the wendigo... no, people and the things they could do were real, not monsters. Monsters were for nightmares, and closets that were too dark; for stories to scare your friends. Scare - not kill. Monsters didn't exist, not to those who were lucky enough to have never encountered them.

Ashley hadn't seen Josh too much in the first months after that night last February. She hadn't been there for him but a time or two after going with Sam to shake he and Chris awake and tell them the girls were gone. That they were gone and Matt and Mike had been searching and searching and Emily had been calling them nonstop but reception was near impossible to come by and even when she had it Hannah's phone was upstairs and Beth wouldn't answer. She remembered that look on his face go from dreary and hungover and flushed from the booze to drained of all color in too quick a moment to time. For a year that look weighed on her conscience. An entire year in which she couldn't hear him talk in even the cheeriest of voices or in one of his stupid impressions without remembering how he was shouting his sisters' names and tearing through the trails with a flashlight in his hands until morning broke, Chris trudging through the snow trying to keep up while the others scoured in every other direction; how he'd stayed out even after the park ranger service had showed up and was hoarse when Chris finally made him come back before he could freeze to death.

And she hated herself for being unable to be near him for so long when he needed his friends more than anything. She hated herself for it each and every time it came to mind because even now she couldn't convince herself that she'd _really_ go back and change and stick with him if she could. Still though, no matter how much she hated herself for not being there for her friend it would never be any kind of close to just how much he hated himself for not being there for the girls. Chris was with him though, at the very least. Every day if he could be, and up on the mountain helping him look when he insisted on trying again. Just 'once more', _'one more chance'_ , maybe they'd find them if they could just _**'try again'**_. They had to be there, they had to be somewhere on the mountain, they couldn't have left the only way off was to take the cable car or climb or...

...And when they were officially declared missing was when the worst of it really hit. She'd heard it from Sam initially and then from Chris, Jess even as she'd tried to help him in any kind of way she thought she could because she had always been one of the best of them at cheering people up and taking minds off of one thing and putting them onto another. But this time around it seemed she'd lost her touch. She still tried though, which was more than Ashley could have said for herself.

A month in and they made him stop. His parents made him stop. He wasn't allowed back especially not by himself, the police were left to handle it. And being away he got better. Or as 'better' as could be expected, Chris had said. He knew how Josh was, knew he'd had problems before this, and being there for him in the coming weeks he could see the toll that Hannah and Beth's disappearance was having on him no matter the façade he managed to build up and nearly perfect by the summer. The façade that Sam could confirm would just come crashing down any time he came to talk to her. The worst part of it though was how he lied even to Chris about being fine. He put on such a good act when he was with them and never brought up the shadows that crept after him in that too big and too empty house at night, or the way his reflection could never quite imitate him all too well on the particularly bad days. Though who was he to tell it who to pretend to be when he was losing sight of how to be Josh himself?

Hypocrisy wasn't below him but in this case he'd shied away from telling it to do what he couldn't and just let it look left when he looked right, or walk away completely and leave him staring at nothing but a sheet of glass backed with silver and the empty room it reflected, walls blank aside from the obscure figures of people and things that weren't quite people who weren't and never had been there.

By the fall he was back to the Josh they remembered, on the outside at least, with the impressions and the pulling shit and the conniving with Jess and Em on how to play matchmaker with their friends, and Ashley and the boys too could be around him again. _Really_ be around him again, comfortably. When he'd look at her before leaving and open his arms up wide and expectant she was able to give in like she used to and hug him and let him squeeze the life out of her as if all the life hadn't been drained out of him. And he was back to being just as affectionate as they remembered, as Hannah and Beth would have remembered; able to give Jess with her kisses and hugs a run for her money. He was so cheerful and full of taunting and full of jokes and he was _fine._

But then Sam would just turn around the next day and tell them that he was anything but. He had been spiteful once or twice and hated them all, but that was early on and she said that mainly it was himself that he couldn't forgive. He blamed himself more than any of the rest of them, for nothing more than having fun with their weekend like he was supposed to, for playing that drinking game with Chris at the end of the night and being too _shit-faced_ to help his sisters when they needed him. And she knew all of this because he came to her, never vice versa because he avoided it. She didn't know how his parents were taking things. How they were worried for their daughters but more than that they were so 'dismissive' when it came to focusing on how their son was falling to pieces because there was something more important, more _real_ to worry about. More real because search parties and police reports and potential clues were palpable, and MDD wasn't.

They gave him everything but what he actually needed.

By the winter, any one of them could have looked at him on any normal day and never known that last year had happened. Not think of the guilt of what they'd done, at least not right off the bat, and that was why they'd decided that, hey, maybe this was a good idea. It'd be good to get together again, to finally get past this together instead of trying to forget about it individually. Instead of trying to just 'forget' about it at all.

They couldn't have known how messed up he still was. How lost he still was. He put on too brave a face, too _convincing_ a face. They forgot for just long enough that he was still sick, and that smiling and laughing didn't mean he was all better. Most of them didn't know what all medicine he was on- 'had' been on, didn't know what it did to him and was no longer doing and how he was able to hide so much so easily. He wasn't fine, he was violently depressed and mentally unstable and needed help - more help than a weekend away from it all could give him. Ashley wished she had been there for him more; had given him more hugs. So many that he wouldn't have known what to do with them. Maybe they wouldn't have fixed him up perfect, but maybe they'd have helped. Maybe they'd have done _something_ for him- she just wanted to do _'something'_ for him.

They couldn't have known. Not what he was planning, and certainly not what he wasn't. And because of their inability to see what he wouldn't show them or see what the mountain was hiding, Ashley was sitting there now, having a staring contest with the girl in the mirror on the opposite wall that was her but wasn't her. Last time she had seen herself it'd been on the window of the cab that'd taken her from the airport to the base of the mountain, and even if she did like the inside a little more than the out she knew she had never been so pale before, the pastey tone of her face blanched only more by the bright red still smudged across her cheek. Her eyes were dark and bruised from lack of sleep as well as from the shiner, but the harder she looked the more convinced she became that the only other girl in the room didn't even _have_ eyes. When that cab drove off it must've taken her reflection with it because this girl in this mirror that she was sure was a window _wasn't her_. And she was also sure that when their staring contest was broken there had been a winner and she wasn't a hundred percent on which of them it'd been, but she'd probably lost because the force of the start had nearly caused her to throw herself back out of her chair when the door opened and her eyes shot to the visitor. Her legs had been jittery up until then, from the cold or maybe just because of her nerves, but she tucked her feet up under the chair now, the rubber soles of her boots snagging on the tile, and there she planned to keep them in hopes that they would calm the hell down and set a good example for the rest of her to follow. Shitty children couldn't be taught though, so just as soon as she'd stopped thinking about them for more than two seconds to watch that woman with the bulky jacket with 'Blackwood Pines' embroidered on the back and breast sit between not-Ashley and herself they were back to fidgeting restlessly. The woman was halfway through what could have been her third or fourth sentence though so she couldn't stop to scold them, could only hope that sheriff Cline was paying less attention to them than she was as they drummed out the beat of her heart for all to hear.

Wait, was that her heart or Maroon 5? It was hard to tell the difference, she remembered Jessica's phone buzzing with a song of their's. She wondered if the sheriff was as big of a fan of Adam Levine as her feet apparently were just in case she did notice, but she didn't ask. She was having a hard enough time listening as it was as the woman talked and talked and reached to hit the record button on that camera and set the little red light to blinking. But before she realized that she was still thinking about listening instead of actually listening she'd already missed so much that she wasn't sure if the moment to ask her to stop and repeat everything had come and gone yet or not. Not-Ashley was trying to peak at her from around the woman's big jacket and she still hadn't given up on staring.

Rather than let her not-self catch her still paying attention to her, though, Ashley tried her best to focus instead on the woman who was still talking, a welcome distraction though the words primarily went in one ear and out the other. It was like she wasn't even speaking English. Nobody she'd seen after being picked up had spoken English to her (the rhythmic whooshing of the helicopter blades had chopped up everyone's speech, as that was when it'd started), so either every ranger in the station had forgotten that English was a thing or Ashley had developed some sort of audible dyslexia. She was pretty sure that existed, but decided that instead of settling on the assumption that she'd developed a sudden disorder she'd try just a little harder, so she trained her eyes on the yellow lettering on the woman's chest while running a hand up and down her sore arm as if to warm up. She was tempted to suck them both into the sleeves like she liked to do when waiting for the bus in the morning back in highschool, before Mike had started driving and she'd hitched rides with him - there was definitely plenty of room in the letterman. Enough to fit two of her at least; herself and her not-self.

She shivered from the thought this time instead of the cold. Being so up close and cozy with her hollow-eyed counterpart who was too good at not blinking wasn't exactly high up on her wish list today.

"Start from the beginning if you can, or wherever you're most comfortable starting. Alright?" Just as soon as her own thoughts hushed up for long enough it gave the sheriff's decrypted voice a chance to slip in (good job, self), and with something else to listen to and words to try and piece together into comprehensible sentences she forgot about her feet and, for a moment, about not-Ashley. "Just say whatever comes to mind, try not to leave anything out. Even the details you don't think will matter." Oh, right, they wanted to ask her questions... Yeah, that was why she was still here. Why she'd been stuck in a room to wait before they'd let her leave or call her dad or even get a shower. That was fine, she could answer a couple of questions. Her legs were busy singing to themselves anyways, she wasn't sure they'd want to carry her anywhere. They'd gone from Sugar to something a little more calm, taking pity on her she figured.

Ashley's eyes had fallen from the two across the table to her knees again as she thought on where to begin. A place where she was 'comfortable starting' wasn't exactly the easiest thing to find, not with all the hectic excitement of the night still knocking around loose in her memory banks. So she just sorted through what she could- what her mind hadn't blanked out yet or what hadn't been forcefully blanked out at all. Needless to say it wasn't much, so instead of replying right away she hummed along with the tune of her shoes.

"Ashley?"

Her humming stopped. She recognized the tune as her own ring tone, and thought of getting off the plane. Maroon 5 was what Jess had been playing while they waited outside of the lodge, but the new song her toes had swapped to was the one that played when she'd gotten a call from Jess just before hailing a cab. That memory was still there; of the start, and about seeing the mountains coming up in the distance - it wasn't gone yet. Jess had been excited. It was weird, but exciting. She'd said it would be fun. Ashley was worried so Jess told her it would be fun, that they'd get through the weekend and it'd be fine and things would be better after.

Nothing was better.

"It was supposed to be fun..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me a bit here, the first couple chapters are primarily descriptive. I promise u things get a little more talkative !!


	2. This Is the House That Josh Built

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bunch of friends being friends because that's what friends are for. Being friends. And bitching.
> 
> <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play the 'Guess Robit's BroTP' Game.
> 
> Ready?

Ashley had been the one to ride up there on the tram with him, back before the night began, when the sun was just starting to go down behind the Rockies and she'd caught him in the station waiting for people to show up. She'd been the first, punctual as always no matter how her flight had had a two-hour layover in Vancouver, and he'd jumped to his feet at the sight of her like she was his favorite person in the world because she'd shown up. He looked tired, but that was just Josh. He was born with those puffy eyes so his being a little more tired than usual wasn't something she could have been expected to notice, right?

His energy levels aside, she still got one of those big, crushing hugs, shrieking and laughing when he lifted her from the snow for a minute, and then they wandered over and just sat for a bit in the yellow light of the cable car station. There they waited, watching the occasional squirrel or two skitter by, and Josh was talking a lot and she listened but she wasn't sure if she could have repeated what he'd said now. And after ten minutes of waiting for anyone else and having no one come down the trail they headed up. She hadn't known what he was planning then, hadn't known what he'd do, so she wasn't scared when they were locked in a large metal box just a little outside the range of a jail cell's dimensions together, only a little cold, her fingertips and thighs especially when she touched the seat.

"He was fine," She told the ranger, her voice in the beginning hardly a cracked whisper. She was still trying to pull herself together, still trying to understand that she was safe and it was over and she could make a sound without the threat of having her throat torn out. Every single part of her ached, her mind most of all, "he was totally normal..." Her words broke, her lips were numb but she could feel them quiver already and the woman across the table wondered how much she'd actually be able to tell them. The one on the glass behind her wondered how much she'd _risk_  telling them.

Josh had been so convincing and calm and just completely fine. She wasn't much of a movie buff but he still got her laughing when he was all smiles and imitations of Hanks and John Wayne. Or at least she was pretty sure that was John Wayne. Her dad liked his movies. He was excited just like Jess had been on the phone, spouting aloud how he couldn't wait until Sam and Chris showed up, and Hell he couldn't wait for Mike either. That part should have been the first little slip to clue her in. They weren't fighting anymore but he was _never_ excited to see Mike. She didn't think about it then, though, had just smiled and listened and agreed on just how freaking freezing cold it was and asked if he thought it'd be snowing all night.

There were points when he seemed a little out of it, yeah, when she ran out of things to say and went quiet for more than a few seconds, but mostly they spent the fifteen minute ride just catching up on what'd happened in the past couple weeks they hadn't seen each other and of course there was the obligatory nudging of her arm when he asked about any 'risqué' study dates with Chris lately. And even after they made it to the top of the mountain and found out that the door was iced shut that was all that happened. He tried to force it, got to the point eventually where he resorted to kicking though it hadn't been out of anger, he was just pouting like a big baby. Pretty quick though he decided there was no use fighting it, and when she suggested they check the other doors he shrugged and shuffled down the stairs, hands shoved into his pockets. Still, of course, in that sulky way, grumbling out loud to himself and asking just _how_ it was cold enough to freeze a whole _'door'_. She wondered if his usual pouting and acting himself had actually been just that. Acting.

Ashley trailed after him idly as they wandered about the grounds looking for another way in, trudging a few paces away mostly and nearly loosing a boot to the snow once or twice, but right up on his ass and clutching his gilet whenever they heard the wind or a squirrel rustling through the brush. Every time she jumped at a noise or her eyes shot to the tree line as if she'd seen something he'd laugh, grumpy demeanor about the door that wouldn't budge forgotten, and she'd smack his arm for it. And when they got back to the front steps Mike and Jess were there and Jess was just as excited to see them as Josh had been to see her. She jumped up and squeezed them both and any silence that might have remained was filled with her voice and the low volume of her phone on Mike's knee. The boys shared a bit of an awkward exchange, a fist bump and a 'hi' that had become the usual in the past year, and Josh wasn't smiling so bright for him but he was still smiling. Another clue-in, she thought. She felt as if not-Ashley was laughing at her for her ignorance and for missing something so  _painfully_ obvious, but she was still just sitting there. Stoic and unrelenting.

Jess kept on filling the silence and Ashley was glad she couldn't hear the bushes rustling or the wind blowing through everything, but when the boys were left to their own devices she took her eyes off of them for long enough that Josh was able to wander off again. She really wished she'd have kept a closer eye on him because when Mike joined them she got a kiss on the cheek from Jess before they left her and headed back down the trail. The lodge groaned in pain from the frostbite.

The whining was cut off by a jingle in her pocket as she sat, the freezing cold of the wooden steps slipping right through her leggings like they were nothing and making her regret her choice of wardrobe. They were in the Rockies, not LA, she should have worn real pants. There was a pair in her bag but she didn't exactly want to strip down and change right there, so she just fixed her parka to protect her thighs a little more and checked her phone.

It was from Matt. She didn't even have to read his name to know, because when he sent a long text he'd always start it with 'Dear Bambi' or, in some crack attempt at being funny, 'Dear Deer' because, as he'd said, she was skittish as all Hell and way too easy to startle, and she was in absolutely no position to disagree. All of the messages he sent that started with that never failed to make her smile, so he made a point of doing it as often as he could, knowing it brightened her up even if he wasn't there to see. She may have been unable to claim she was any braver than a deer, but she could, however, roll her eyes for no one to see and read that he and Em had made it to the top. It was reassuring to know that she wouldn't be left there on the steps listening to the highest branches of the trees crack and stir for too much longer, but what wasn't so reassuring was how the structure at her back was complaining more than Em when she was losing an argument.

Ash jumped up just as quick as she'd sat down, and not because the front steps were colder than the seats on the tram but because fuck that. She wasn't sitting and listening to the building behind her cry and complain about how cold it was. She vamoosed right on down to the gazebo when it began to belly-ache, seeing as how she wasn't sure when Josh was going to return to grace her with his presence so she could stick to his back like she'd been doing before.

She remembered telling the rangers how after a few minutes of making it to the front stairs Matt seemed a little on edge- pensive; and looking for someone to lay the blame on they'd immediately started assuming the worst. He was a big guy, after all, certainly the strongest and most capable of them all right next to Mike, but she'd taken the offense and shot them down immediately because _'no'_. No, Matt was an angel and everyone's friend, even those he didn't know well. He could be a bit of a grouch on occasion, sure, when things weren't going too well, but rarely did he get _truly_  angry. And if he was then they could be sure that someone _damn well deserved it_. He could tackle a two- three-hundred pound guy on the field and have him on his ass for a few solid minutes, sure, but outside of practice or a game he wouldn't hurt a fly. It wasn't him- it wasn't any of them.

Besides, it was only after he'd run back down to the gazebo and shown up with his bag and Emily's too that he looked as close to grumpy as that face could look. Ash knew why; he was worried about Em. Maybe because of Mike, though she'd made sure not to let him see what she had through the telescope, or maybe, hopefully, he really was just worried that she was alone. Even though she... 'wasn't'. He'd scared ~~the absolute shit out of~~ her at the gazebo, but he was such an angel. A little meat-headed occasionally but an angel. And he'd just kept on laughing when she puffed up and got mad at his prank, throwing his arms up to defend himself from the wimpy punches she threw at him when he teased her. He got them on almost a daily basis and could take it, but if he tried to defend himself she'd always keep going until getting a good one to the gut and feeling she'd won.

He snatched her beanie when she hogged the telescope, revealing that mess of red hair she never let anyone ever see when out in public, and high-tailed it, and of course she chased him as had been his plan. What _hadn't_ been part of his plan though was her catching up so quick what with just how boot-hungry the snow on the trail was, and she grabbed his shoulders and nearly yanked him right off his feet and into said snow when she hoisted herself up onto his back. With a startled 'oh shit' he was able to stay standing, and was laughing when she was still trying to grab back her hat. Too bad for her though because he didn't fork it over so easy _or_ set her down until they were back up at the front steps. He earned a couple more punches for his teasing, but it was worth it and he could still only laugh.

It was strange being back, Ashley couldn't deny that. She felt it and she was sure all the rest of them felt it too. In fact Chris pretty much confirmed that she wasn't the only one thinking it when he showed up. He said hi just as soon as he'd seen her; she'd been waiting for a text but a few minutes of sitting until she got the real thing was even better. He was unsettled, found it kinda weird to be there again and, despite the warm welcome she'd gotten from Josh herself, she couldn't blame him. It felt like their group of eight should've still been ten, and when they got inside the twins would be there, Hannah poking at Beth endlessly about when she was gonna suck it up and get a tattoo. ' _It only hurts for, like, an hour._ ' That's what she'd say.

He was all smiles though once he'd gotten that off his chest. And once Josh was back and saw he and Matt and Sam he was back down to Earth and poking fun again, just as he always was when it was just him and Ash and Chris hanging out. It was good that he was able to smile so easy, especially in that place. It was a relief. It made it a little easier to breathe and a little easier for her to smile about it all as well.

She should have known that something was wrong. Not-Ashley would have known that something was wrong; she never blinked with eyes that probably weren't there so she'd have seen everything. But not-Ashley hadn't been there. She was just a picture in the glass of a two-way mirror who'd started bouncing her legs again and caused the real Ashley to do the same. The song this time was something familiar but Ashley couldn't quite place it. Wasn't too quick but it was plenty antsy-pantsy.

The boys went off to find a way in. She and Matt could hear them still laughing and could only imagine what kind of playful shit-talk Josh was getting into once they were out of general earshot.

When Sam showed up she was as friendly as ever, snatching up Jess's job of filling the quiet and chatting her up as soon as the boys were gone. She had that mom voice, she'd always had it. Must've thought Ashley looked bored - or cold, or scared what with it getting dark. Such a worry wart. It got a little annoying some times but it was nice to have a mom occasionally, even if she was just the mom of the friend group. Always making sure everyone was alright and keeping shit together if it got out of hand; half the time Josh was complaining about why she wasn't there making him pancakes in the morning like a ' _real mom would have done, dammit Sammy_ '.

Ashley missed her. Missed that uncanny ability of hers to keep a level head in any situation only when she was gone and unable to keep the peace anymore. Missed being able to call her at any hour when she woke up in the middle of the night and count on her being awake and willing to come over, especially now when sleeping at all didn't come easy. Missed waking up to her _actually_ making pancakes when she stayed the night. Josh had been so jealous when he heard about it.

' _Bet you even put, like, chocolate chips and shit in them too, huh?_ '

Not-Ashley had graduated from repeating her own thoughts to her to mouthing even what Josh had said once before, hardly a month ago.

' _Not fair, Ash. I married her first, I called dibs. Dibs are_ sacred _. How_ dare _you._ '

Josh had been so bitter after that, or at least tried to be. Once Sam promised him some pancakes next time he brightened right back up and flaunted his good fortune to Ashley the rest of the day. And to Chris the whole day after. Said they weren't allowed to have sleepovers without him anymore.

She thought for a moment that she saw him there, standing beside the ghost of the girl who wasn't herself. But she squeezed her eyes shut tight and he was gone again.

There was a shriek of fear from inside the house and it had made them all jump, and even now a crooked smile tugged at the corner of Ashley's lips at the memory. Not-Ashley was still stone-faced. Matt was up the stairs in a flash just as Sam was, holding his arm out ready to soccer-mom her as if afraid to let her too close to the door. After a tense moment though, Ashley was giggling. He was fine. Chris was fine. Probably just saw a mouse, she'd thought, what a pansy. Her light-heartedness was well-placed it seemed because a few moments later he was at the door breathless and melting the ice around the frame. It wouldn't last more than a couple of hours though, but at the time it was back full force when what looked like a small bear- a wolverine, maybe? Came rushing out of the door full speed and Chris let out that girlish shriek again and nearly jumped out of his pants. Sam was practically cackling.

"And where was Joshua?"

There was no getting a single breath out after mentioning his name, not with this woman, not after Ashley had let slip that he wasn't right.

"He was right behind us. He wasn't doing anything." She and Sam were caught off guard because they hadn't heard him sneaking up, and it was true she hadn't know where he'd gone but there was nothing suspicious about being gone for the five minutes it'd taken Chris to traverse the place. He was poking fun at the one in the doorway just the same as them. It'd been so nice to see him happy. And it was warmer inside without the wind chill, though not by much.

Matt didn't think much had changed, but he was wrong; so much had changed. The whole place looked just as it had and all, aside from the lights being out and most of the furniture being covered, but still it was different... The shadowy air was a little more hazy with dust than she remembered, but it wasn't that which was so off-setting about seeing everything again. Ashley's fingertips were freezing when she touched the sofa, and she didn't even think about it before mention of police slipped out of her mouth and her eyes flicked to Josh with her mistake as the others got a good, dark look around at the place. He was fine though and had shrugged it off. Surprising when she thought about it, but he'd been doing well the past few months. But not taking it too hard and neglecting to hear or think about it were completely different things. The woman across the table hadn't even flinched at the mention because by now the rangers had dug up and gone over what'd happened the previous year, just as soon as the transmission from the fire tower had come in earlier in the night.

And then suddenly Mike and Jess were there again. They were so lively, making their presence known before Ashley could have given herself even a short moment to see how strange Josh was being. Surely she'd have caught it that time if they hadn't come in at such an inopportune moment. Chris had probably caught it though, maybe. He'd gotten good at catching that kind of thing with Josh. Ashley wondered where Em was but only for a moment, as she trailed in a good fifteen paces behind them. Matt was glad to see her, but as soon as she saw Jess she openly gagged so the girl could see.

' _Oh no._ ' Ashley remembered thinking, ' _Sam you lucky babe you got out when you could._ ' Not-Ashley mouthed every thought she'd had back to her now. When Ashley's lips pressed tight to make sure she wasn't speaking, _Hers_ curled into a smile.

Fighting. Always fighting. The rangers asked of course if they were usually so hostile but what could she say?

Not much, so she just scoffed; hadn't thought about it, it just slipped out. "Vain..." She muttered. Not-Ashley had stopped smiling, and stopped mirroring her words because they were safe from her mind when Ash said them out loud. "Em's just vain. She gets pissed and she lashes and that makes Jess pissed and..." It was her own lips this time that had found it in them to twitch up into a smile yet again, but it was gone in a moment when she realized what she was actually saying.

Was...

Em _was_ vain...

They _were_  competitive and Em _was_  sour about Mike and Jess's relationship. They'd broken up and she had that angel now but she was never satisfied. She'd have seen the world burn first. Such a bitch.

But... she was 'their' bitch.

It had been a good solid week at least since she'd last seen her, but Ashley stuck close to Chris as per the norm and held off on going to hug Emily, and she shrugged when Chris threw her a glance and an eye roll. They hadn't 'not' been expecting it. The girls had been at each other's throats on and off for two months, and avoiding one another when they weren't, so sticking them on a mountain together for a whole weekend where they couldn't get away from each other it was bound to happen. They all braced for impact, expecting someone to lose and eye at the very least. Chris gave a heavy and over-exaggerated sigh and they heard Matt trying to calm the storm before it tore the lodge apart. He did his best but once those two were going they were an eternal flame of insults, just feeding each other's fires until someone got too big and lit the whole place up or they were put out. Ash and Chris couldn't do much more than silently root for Matt though, lest those insults be aimed at them. And they knew better than to wish that upon anyone.

Josh was the saving grace, actually. He defused the fight like he'd been working on the bomb squad since he came into the world screaming with a pair of wire cutters in his hands. That was something good to tell the rangers, at least.

He sent Mike and Jess to the cabin a good ways walk from there, nobody had to guess what they were gonna get up to to blow off some steam. And it was only after she'd mentioned it in front of the camera that she wondered if maybe he had been planning on dragging them into things later? After all it was only Friday night and they had the entire weekend to burn through with no way off the mountain. Whatever he had planned though, he hadn't touched Jess. What happened to her was not his fault. He may have had plans for them but _'that'_ wasn't his fault.

"What wasn't his fault?"

Even not-Ashley stopped pretending not to be her for a moment, and her feet stopped singing as the music fizzled out of them and out of her head. "The _monster_ wasn't his fault." Ashley snapped with a seething finality and certain lethality in her usually sweet droopy eyes, before the woman had had time enough to get the full question out of her mouth. Her voice had broken, still somewhat hoarse from all the screaming, but the look on her face more than made up for it. Exhaustion and what felt to be the beginning stages of a migraine began thrumming at her temples and she cringed and _God **dammit**_ how many times did she have to tell them what Mike had told her?

She'd said it when they asked her where everyone else was. It may not have been in much detail and they may have been hardly speaking English to her but she knew that they'd asked and she knew that she'd said it. It _ripping_ Jess through a _window_ and _shredding her up_ as it dragged her through the snow and into the mines _wasn't his fault_. But she couldn't say that. Not again, not when she knew they just wouldn't believe it. Ash wasn't there anyways, she couldn't go into the gruesome, staining-the-snow-red details that they'd need to make them believe it. She caught a glance of not-Ashley staring at her again with that stone face, and she felt suddenly that all the world was glaring through her. As she withdrew once again and hugged herself and kept her bloodshot gaze on the black-eyed reflection, the woman who sat like a barrier between them turned and glanced over her own shoulder. She didn't ask what Ashley kept looking at because there was nothing there. Nothing but a mirror. Not to her.

And when Ashley kept insisting that it wasn't Josh it was this 'thing' that had been up on the mountain with them, the thing she kept going on and on about that they had quietly accepted as delusion she was sure, the sheriff wasn't ready to drop it. But for now she let her leave it be. She decided instead to shut up and just let her go on, taken aback by the sudden change from docile and scared to defensive. There was no spite in her gaze though, no matter the hostility. It was still that calm, sympathetic look, and suddenly Ashley was wondering why she was so mad. When had she become so capricious? They were looking for someone to blame and that someone was most easily Josh, but they didn't know what was up there. What was _really_ up there. She'd mentioned what had happened with Jessica before but they hadn't believed in the monster then and they weren't going to start now. They weren't going to start until they'd seen it for themselves, and if it came to that they likely wouldn't be alive and believing for too long.

She couldn't be mad that they had and were taking it like any normal person would, couldn't be mad that they were just trying to help. Her nerves were completely shot to hell and she was jumpy and had more than any single lifetime's worth of anxiety and exhaustion sucking her dry. So she took a moment and a number of deep breaths and relaxed again into that melancholic frame of mind as a man stepped into the room and put a water bottle in front of her, taking away the empty one. All she did was stare at it, like not-Ashley was still staring at her. Her feet went back to tapping out something from Marina.

When Jess and Mike were gone Em was back to whining about her bag, the one Matt had apparently _not_ carried in for her. She was 'love-bitching' at him again (that was what he said when he tried to make excuses for her, it was something they would always joke about when it was just he and Ash), but he went along with it, and then they were gone too to look for it. Out the front door, though; no chance of seeing Mike or Jess again. They were gone for _hours_ , as far as she had understood.

Still though, this was before they knew anything. Before even Josh knew anything other than what he had planned. He didn't want anyone to die; he wanted to terrorize them, to force them to feel what Hannah and Beth had felt, but he didn't want them to _die_. "Josh only wanted to scare us." She tried to insist again when the sheriff's gaze had finally found its way back to her. "He was sick. Chris said he was sick and we all knew it, he's not a killer." Meek words, but not lacking in sincerity. She'd been so scared because of what he'd done, even now she was scared of him, but she'd had time since being plucked off the mountain by that chopper to come to terms with what he'd meant and what he hadn't.

In the quiet of the lodge without all the fighting they heard Sam crying about hot water upstairs. Josh missed it, too busy it seemed trying to get the fire in the hearth going while Chris chastised him a bit and joked to Ashley about how they were gonna freeze tonight. Josh stifled his snickering when the absolute _best_  response hit him, and he retorted rather haughtily that if he couldn't get it going then he figured they'd just have to cuddle it out tonight. He 'certainly' wasn't against it. Chris regretted what he'd said immediately and both he and Ashley went cherry in the face when he mentioned they could share a room if they wanted. Chris tried to laugh it off but it was a little more than awkward and Josh was close to tears, laughing at his own joke now and the sweet revenge. And there on his face was that shit-eating grin when he glance back at them over his shoulder. They looked nothing alike when it came to anything else, but the boys both shared that _stupid_ fucking smile when they _'knew'_ they'd said something great or had hit right on someone's buttons, the one that said ' _hell yeah, I'm the 'shit'_ '. Ashley had only grimaced at him, cheeks still pink from more than just a bit of windburn, but before she could make some kind of jumbled retort he looked away and brought up the ouija board.

 _God_ , how much more cliché could their lives have been that weekend? They were _really_  fuckin' asking for it, weren't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guessed Matt & Ashley you are 1,000,000% correctimundo.


	3. Goosey Goosey Gander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley has a come-to-Jesus meeting with herself. It is very brief.  
> Not-Ashley is present as well. Forever supportive.
> 
> How kind of her.

Ashley mentioned the board but the cops didn't need to know the details, because though she'd been skeptical earlier she knew by now that it sure as _fuck_ wasn't a _fucking ghost_ that killed everyone. That killed the twins or dragged Jess through the snow or shot Emily or blew fire at the wendigo. They were screwing around with ghosts like stupid teenagers and it didn't even matter because it _wasn't real_. Chris hadn't exactly been a believer in the paranormal (not then, at least), and he didn't believe in contacting the dead; they weren't breathing and they were in the ground or in an urn and that was that. He didn't scare easy either, but he went along with it. Ashley, on the other hand, did believe. Always had. She put on a brave farce as if she didn't but she did, everyone who knew her knew that already, and even then she was unsure about potentially taunting anything. Ghosts were the least of their concerns though, they came to find out.

When she brought up the board at all she merely skimmed the whole thing vaguely for the rangers. She was dismissive of the restless dead; didn't talk about spirits and ghosts like she did the wendigo. The sheriff and anyone else who saw the tape or watched through the glass like not-Ashley did were left to wonder how she could brush them off so effortlessly when her other delusions brought her to tears at the mere thought, but she wasn't stopped to be asked. Ash stopped staring at the refracted edge of the table through the water bottle and her eyes were back on her knees. The darkness under the table was unsettling, she had half a mind to ask them to turn on a brighter light or bring in a lamp or something.

She and Chris went to find the board while Josh and Sam headed downstairs to start the boiler. In the basement. _Alone_. She'd enunciated that for them when the sheriff (and now the man behind her as well) had just looked so damn assuming. They weren't apart for more than twenty minutes, though. At some point she split from Chris to search, and though Ash wasn't too into it she did put effort into looking lest she feel bad about it if they never found it, but instead of finding a spirit board she instead lost the nerd. But still she continued looking for a good ten minutes since the guys, aka Josh, had just looked so dang excited about it, before returning to the front room to wait. It hadn't been long before the laughing came from downstairs and Chris was nearly in tears as he came up dressed in those dusty old robes.

Not-Ashley did as she had done and huffed a breath to blow the bangs from her face, mumbling the sarcastic cheers that had run through Ashley's head and not past her lips at the realization that Chris found the board. And had then detoured to scare the shit out of their friends. He'd apparently even caught Josh off guard and was getting congratulated for it.

Yup, that was Chris. Couldn't turn your back for two seconds before he was terrorizing the ~~somewhat~~ innocent. Couldn't take him anywhere. This weekend the mountain was supposed to be a fun-only zone as far as he was concerned, after all. Bad vibes not allowed.

Bad vibes would be all they got.

Sam went to try the bath again when they got back and that was the last they saw of her until maybe three-something in the morning? Ashley wondered if things may have been different if she'd been with them through the bulk of it. Always a level-head, always fixing what was wrong. But she probably couldn't have fixed all of this.

"Where did she go?"

Ashley could only shrug at that as well as she could with only one shoulder. The other she clutched tight, and since her last response her gaze had remained on her leggings, the French tips of her nails chipping idly at the dried blood. "To take a bath." She knew what the woman had meant.

"For four hours?" The fact that she sounded so skeptical this time, over _this_ for Christ's sake, was irritating. But Ashley didn't want to be mad, she just wanted to lay down. Being mad took too much energy, and she didn't exactly have any of that to spare. All she had was going towards her restless legs bouncing to the sound of Patrick's voice in one of Fall Out Boy's more recent hits.

No matter what she thought she had though, she still ended up grumbling out a response. No energy to get really annoyed, but plenty to be petulant about it. "She wasn't in the bath when we tried to find her later, I don't know where all she went." It was as if she were rolling her eyes but with a tone of voice and not her 'actual' eyes, but at least she was looking at the ranger again. She knew they had to clarify things, but she was tired. They'd asked her so much already and she was so tired. All they were doing now was looking for someone to pin the blame on because the wendigo just wasn't good enough. She just wanted to go home - she wanted to get out of this room and this station and this whole _fucking_ country and go _'home'_. They wouldn't even let her call her dad until they were done. Had said they'd call him for her but that wasn't good enough. "Please, just... Ohmygod I didn't even know what time it was when I got knocked out or when I woke up, I wasn't looking at the clock. I just remember going upstairs with the guys, and..." Another scoff and twitch of a smile. She threw her free hand up weakly in defeat and shook her head, "It was stupid... It was stupid, we were just playing with a _stupid_ spirit board and it made Josh mad and he left but- but, y'know, it freaked me out." She claimed in her defense, "I mean, Chris didn't believe in that crap but I guess since _I_ was freaked out maybe he was just going with it I don't know- God, it was so _'stupid'_. Walking around like the _freaking_ Scooby Gang, chasing Josh's _stupid, **freaking**_ camera tricks while Jess and Mike were out there dealing with the _real_ shit... Ohmy _God_ it was so _'freaking' **stupid**_!" That timidity became frustration became some sort of passive aggressive self-deprecation as she thought on how much time they'd wasted running around looking for clues. Not just at first when it had only been the library and a few halls and front rooms, but even later when they'd been searching for Sam. It had been real at the time- 'so' real, so terrifying... but now it didn't mean anything. They were never in any real danger then. Not with Josh.

Josh... He'd been so quiet again after suggesting they head upstairs to start with the board. He'd trailed behind Chris and Ash and they were talking and laughing along the way but Josh was quiet. He was out of it again. Once the board was set up and the candles were lit though he was all for it, but they weren't prepared. Ashley's heart was racing when the board spelled out Beth's name, her fingers cold and shaking on the planchette. Chris was denying everything but _she_ was scared _shitless_ , and Josh... Josh was _mad_. He was scared like she was, too, though. She wondered now if it had been real at all, figuring in her own mind that it probably wasn't, but the look on his face... She wondered if he 'really' believed what he was making the board say. He may have been the one controlling the planchette but his own scheming it seemed had become too much for just that short few minutes it would have taken. He couldn't have faked that look. That horror and dread and _regret_ in his eyes. He was breathing hard and quick when he stood, but he was mad. If only to cover up the fear.

He rushed out, and Ashley was left upset for upsetting him; she hadn't meant to make him hurt like that. Of course, she didn't know what was going on and bent to pick up the planchette while Chris defended her from Josh's anger even though he had every right to it in her opinion, but he said also that they should let him cool his head. Said he'd be okay, but Ash regretted mentioning the girls at all.

That was why they'd come back though, he'd reminded her; to remember them, to help their friend. She agreed, but her chest hurt, for the girls but mostly for Josh. Putting that look on his face hadn't been 'helping' him.

Even if it had been his idea, maybe they still went too far with the séance?

No, that wasn't a maybe. Josh had suggested it and he'd planned it from the start, but they'd gone too far. All three of them. He'd thought he could handle it but he couldn't and his _'face'_. God, his face...

It was the same face the ghost in the mirror made back at her now, over the shoulder of sheriff Cline. Her hollow eyes were just as expressive as Josh's had been despite the impossibility of that. It made her want to vomit.

Once Josh had cleared out, Chris was wondering aloud if the 'ghost' had really been the girls. He didn't believe in this crap, never had, but at the time he sure as Hell sounded like he did. Ash didn't know what she wanted to believe, but still she took the candle from the table. And, so... the Mystery Gang was formed. That was what Chris had said, trying to lighten the mood before it really got tense. Telling her she could be Daphne and he'd be Fred. He was quickly corrected though to ' _maybe Velma and Shaggy_ ', and he could only frown and murmur in the most childish and pouty way that he wasn't so lanky and was ' _much_ ' cooler. Ashley had laughed then, a pitiful excuse for one but a laugh nonetheless, and that was the start of their elaborate wild goose chase and ghost-hunting adventure.

She jumped at every little noise, every subtle movement in her periphery. It was fun at first; she was plenty creeped out, that much was indisputable, and she kept grabbing for his sleeve but never touching it. Josh had set it up so well, and they were close so he _'knew'_ her, sometimes better than she knew herself. Every year since she'd met him he'd been more spot on with any birthday present for her than Sam, Jess, Chris, or even her dad. He was so attentive of all the little things when it came to his friends and people he loved, and he loved them a lot. Josh understood what scared her, he understood what didn't scare Chris but still knew how to get to him.

Yeah, she and Josh were close, but he and Chris were even closer. So even when she was sitting in the cold chair in the cold room with her cold fingers still shaking in her lap, trying to answer all of those questions that just seemed like they were being repeated to her every five minutes and fighting off the nagging urge to look up at not-Ashley to see what kind of face she was making now, she didn't understand. She'd been an onlooker- she was a part of the prank and she felt horrible about it but she 'got' why Josh might have wanted to get back at her. But not Chris. They were best friends, they'd been best friends since third grade and he'd been there for him from then to when his sisters disappeared and every day since. He'd thought this trip was a good idea, that it was good for Josh and good for the rest of them. And he hadn't participated in the prank on Hannah. He hadn't even known about it. But he still felt the guilt - still felt like he could have done something if he'd just been there to do it.

She didn't bother telling the sheriff about the little clues here and there and in fact had gone mostly quiet again. It was all fake anyways. All set up by Josh. There was the vent in the library with the light from his monitor room, the voice recording on the answering machine, the notes, and the bloody message from the library that she had never seen because Chris had never shown it to her. So much for secrets from the secret room, she'd thought then, reminded of it only because not-Ashley whispered it from across the room. Chris knew what scared her and she was scared already, he couldn't make it worse. So instead he'd distracted her with his jokes, trying to play everything off as light and funny like he had always been far too good at doing. When he called their situation a rom-com she wanted to elbow him _so_ hard in the gut. But alas, he was, admittedly, too cute.

However, cute or not he still got to go first. For the entirety of the night. There was no way she was diving head first into danger when he was all too willing to do it himself and she was all too willing to help him. At least in the start when all they had to fear were a few Spooks.

Honestly, after a while of searching and listening to him try to make light of it all, he eventually won her over and she began to forget just how anxious the spirit board had made her, and when Chris started on about strange conspiracies after finding a letter from Mrs. Washington about some Native American tribe in the mountains, he was saying something about a poster he and Sam had seen and something about some crazy guy wanting revenge on the Washingtons.

A voice came from across the table. A buzzing in the background that Ashley hadn't heard because, when her eyes fell to the darkness under the table that ate up her legs again and she had begun to remember their game of paranormal detective, she'd blocked everything out. Her mind trying to remove her from the now; when everyone was already dead and gone and she knew things she had never wanted to know, back to before when it was still the no-bad-vibes zone despite that ghost, and the most violent thing she'd ever witnessed had been a really good hockey match. But even then she remembered her dad cheering and how she laughed at him.

The buzzing wouldn't cease though and this time it came in the form of partial words aimed to get her attention. She looked up finally to the sheriff touching the table in front of her, not harsh and banging but gingerly. Her nails were painted a milky pink. "Are you alright?" She asked for the second- or maybe the third time. "You mentioned a man with something against the Washington family?"

Had she? Maybe not-Ashley had told her about it while she wasn't paying attention, she seemed sly enough to get away with that sort of thing, what with her empty face and ability to make no sound at all to the world outside of her own head. That had to have been it, because she didn't remember it slipping out. It wasn't real; it wasn't important. A lot of things were important, like an SS number, what street she lived on, what kind of Friskies made Catsby sick... Did she make sure to fill his bowl all the way before leaving the house?

_Hope dad doesn't forget to check..._

There was something bordering on that disorientation they'd seen earlier back on her face when she realized how her mind had gone so one-track and she struggled to fix it, not-Ashley's voice pummeling her thought process with worries about her cat. She was trying again to piece things back together, caught up on trying to recall if she'd said anything in the past couple minutes about the man on the mountain. The fake one that Josh had created. She hadn't realized she'd been sitting there nearly silent for more than a couple of minutes, muttering a bit as she thought about searching for clues with Chris.

"And this man was the one who was stalking you?" They'd asked her. The woman, of course, the man against the wall remaining ever silent. He was the one Ashley's eyes found next though. "Was this the stranger you mentioned?"

"No... no you don't understand. He didn't exist- this guy in the poster and from all the notes, he didn't exist..." She began slow at first, still trying to resurface from her daze, and took this question in stride because like before she didn't want to be mad. That mindset of not wanting to be mad was what she clung to; trying to push it up next to the exhaustion and win over any annoyance, and she continued to stare at that man on the wall until he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one leg to the other and she could tell it made even him, this big burly guy with a gun on his hip, uncomfortable. She wondered who else she'd made uncomfortable when she'd been led through the building earlier, covered in blood and all and looking so glass-eyed. She made herself uncomfortable. Looked more like a deer in the headlights than ever before. She wondered what Matt would have said, and if he'd still want to call her Bambi after seeing those eyes. "It was Josh," Her words began to pick up at his name and at the mention of the stranger as well, and she forgot about the burly man against the wall and how uncomfortable she made him, but her eyes didn't and they continued to stare. Not-Ashley's not-eyes were stuck on the sheriff now, too. There wasn't really any telling them what to do though, she'd have to focus too hard on them for that, and right now she was focusing on Josh. _One thing at a time, Ashley._ "it was all Josh. He was the Psycho in the notes, he set up all the fake newspaper clippings and the poster to scare us into believing in the Psycho thing and... ohmygod... The man outside was a completely different story-"

"But there _was_ a man outside?"

"Yes! No-... There was but- God... _God_ , ohmy _God._ " Ever-growing frustration. It was winning over the exhaustion and the not wanting to be mad. She wasn't even religious but still her head fell back as if she really were looking to whatever God there might have been up there for some kind of help. After tonight she doubted though, even if he did exist, if he cared for any of them at all. Frankly, at this point, real or not she didn't like him. He was just some kind of self-absorbed _asslamp_ who made people bow and pray and then did nothing at all for them in return except give babies incurable diseases and turn whole countries into war-torn wastelands, and make people hate themselves _so much_ that they didn't even want to _live_ , or they didn't want _others_ to live, and then they go off the deep end and try and fake-murder their friends and _wow_ he must have just been a really shitty person in life. Possibly creating the universe did _not_ give him the right to be a shitty person. That didn't keep the murmured string of 'ohmyGod's from flooding endlessly from her lips when a defeated breath finally abandoned her lungs, giving up on the conversation itself as it wasn't so inclined to stick around and deal with the bull as the rest of her.

Her shoulders slumped but her eyes remained on the ceiling. That stranger- the guy with the flamethrower, he had nothing to do with anything Josh had planned. They didn't even know he existed until _'he'_ came to _'them'_ , with no intent to do more than warn them to leave. To get out when they could as soon as morning hit.

They didn't even see him until later. _Hours_ later, after the horror of their night had already begun and just as she was beginning to learn what was real and what wasn't. _Hours_ after they were down in the front room again and the doors to the kitchen were rattling violently and Josh was panicking on the other side. Ash tried to help him, threw caution to the wind for once in spite of her fear and grabbed the knob because _oh no oh God is he okay what's happening is he okay??_ Worry took place of fear and it was second nature, she could see it on not-Ashley's face. The anxiety that'd built up with the séance and from chasing ghosts was still with her and it was front and center to react, blocking the poor chump that was common sense from stopping her hand to think first. That had been her first mistake of the night. Her first 'real' mistake, and she was pulled into the darkness and the door slammed shut behind her. There was a gloved hand on her mouth and a sharp prick in her neck. She couldn't remember anything else after feeling the cold rug on her cheek.

Another song echoed in her head and in her boots, but a couple of cold hands pressing down on her knees and she stopped it. Sorry Hozier. Appropriate, but unnecessary. She hadn't gone to church since she was a little girl and her grandparents made her, and she wasn't heading there anytime soon. Couldn't her feet come up with anything a little more happy-go-lucky? She could use some happy-go-lucky right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ashley is so frustrated. She just has too many feelings to deal with right now, sweet baby just needs a blanket and a nap.  
> And maybe a shower.  
> And some counseling.


	4. One for Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having an existential crisis about _wanting_ to have an existential crisis.
> 
> Ashley's having a hard time telling if she deserves to be alive or not. She certainly doesn't wanna swap places with the bitch in the mirror, though. Who the Hell knows what _she_ would get up to if they let her around people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of fun I had with this chapter is _ridiculous._
> 
> Pls enjoy <3

It was dark when Ash finally woke up. It was dark and her wrists hurt and she couldn't feel the floor beneath her feet. She'd been scared before, but there was pure terror pounding hard against her breast upon waking up with nothing to see but a hazy blackness filling the room before her eyes could adjust. And though her arms hurt she could still feel her hands and how cold her fingers were and she was shaking violently. She was crying and her breathing became more and more erratic and hitched as she tried to find the ground beneath her, stretching her toes down only to find nothing but empty air with her eyes trying their damnedest to sort out her vision to accommodate for the lack of light, as what was falling in with the snow through the holes in the roofing and cracks in the walls of wherever they were wasn't near enough. She didn't know what was happening, didn't fully understand what _had_ happened. Only understood that she wasn't in the kitchen and she was alone and it was dark and cold and someone had grabbed her-

She called for Chris. Called for Josh, too - and Sam and Matt and, hell, even Mike. She must've been screaming for twenty minutes and her throat still stung from the memory, and even after all that time had passed and she'd gotten no reply she was still confused and shook up, thrashing against the boarded wall she was hung up against and trying to kick away from it as if somehow that'd help her get loose, but it only caused the rope to dig deeper into her wrists. She couldn't move- could wriggle a bit, but there was no running away. When her eyes had adapted as well as they could to nothing but the moonlight slinking in she could see that there was someone beside her, but they weren't moving either. Twenty minutes, an hour, she couldn't tell how long she was stuck there, with no one not even whoever had done this coming to answer her. Only the sound of the wind as it blew through the structure and blew right through her, accompanied by her own unsteady breaths and sobbing. At one point she even tried to reach up and kick whoever it was there beside her but to no avail. Her legs were too tired, still half-asleep, and she was too short to reach.

Across the room not-Ashley damned their mother for her, like she'd done while strung up next to Josh in the shed. Like she'd done plenty of times before that in much less perilous situations. Damned her, wherever she was, for leaving her nothing but green eyes and a stature just short of five-four. Her boots added at least a half-inch to her height but it still wasn't enough. That didn't keep her from trying though, even when all it accomplished was reteaching her a lesson on physics she didn't care to remember right now. Every time her legs dropped they'd yank the rest of her down with them and she was sure her wrists had been rubbed raw after so many tries. In fact she knew it, because pulling back the sleeves and looking at them now they were still red and burnt.

She was trapped.

She couldn't do anything.

They were chasing ghosts but ghosts _sure_ as Hell couldn't do this. Someone else had been chasing them; watching them. Likely from inside the lodge considering it wasn't unthinkable that there were more places to hide than the room in the library. With nowhere else for her mind to turn to then, it turned to that game of paranormal detective, to the little things she and Chris had found about some man up on the mountain. At the time it had all been so real, so convincing. There had been no other possible suspects, no one else that it could have been. At the time, Josh's plan was working so wonderfully. Ashley and the others all knew that he'd been good at hiding things from them, hiding what he was truly thinking and feeling, but it was only until now after it was all said and done and his little 'prank' was over that she realized the true extent of his ability to keep secrets. He'd spent so long planning it all, too. Sam said he didn't hate them, but how long exactly had he been looking forward to this? How long since he'd stopped taking his medication and started losing himself again...?

The newspapers they found later had 'August' printed on the shipping label.

But Ash hadn't gone over this while she was hanging there in the shed - had instead gotten to the _very_ wrong realization that the Psycho on the mountain was real and was after them. Had simply stopped thinking and started screaming again. And she finally got a response.

It was Chris though he wasn't in the room with her, which was more than a little distressing on top of how she was strung up like she was. Was he in the dark as well? He couldn't find her. _She_ couldn't find her. There was a crash and he swore and she was crying for him again. And then the lights came on, just bright enough to see vague colors and blind her momentarily and trigger a stuttering breath of relief to fall from her lips. And Chris's face was there ahead of her. Sure, it was through a grated, reinforced window, but his face being there at all and bringing with it that sense of familiarity that the shed had thus far been severely lacking in helped the panic to become marginally more manageable. At least until a few anxiety and false-hope ridden moments passed and her eyes had made the grave mistake of flinching from the bright as sin lights and fell just far enough to see the saw. On a set of tracks. That lead right to her, and lead right to Josh. He was the one who hung beside her but she couldn't even look at him, that terror-stricken gaze fixed on the saw blade as she tried to maybe just _'stare'_ it out of existence. But the happenstance of whatever God there was up above potentially stopping by for an impromptu visit and blessing her with the power to blink away all the bad things in the world hadn't exactly come around just yet. Probably still mad at future-Ashley about the whole 'her calling him a shitty person' thing.

Chris's voice tried to call her back to reality, and she heard him in garbled English through the static filling up her ears like cotton, but couldn't listen. Not until the pressure of her teeth clenching too tight for her jaw to really stand got to her and she finally took a breath and began to ball. She couldn't stand it anymore. She couldn't take this. Just hearing the floors creak in her house at night was enough to make her sleep with the light on, but with the ouija board and the ghosts and now this-

She was ready to relearn that physics lesson now, and fought against the ropes holding her up. Violently this time, Chris still trying to calm her down though there was very little he could say, and even less she would have heard. His voice and Ashley's crying had been enough to wake Josh though it seemed and as he went through the initial confusion and panic that she had upon waking up she stopped for a moment out of just pure exhaustion to look at him.

' _I can't get down, I can't get down..._ ' The ghost of her in the mirror wasn't only repeating what she'd thought to herself when she'd been unable to do anything but cry, she was just outright _mocking_ her. ' _I'm scared... I don't want to be here, I want to go home. This isn't real, this isn't real-_ '

Like a child teased on the playground, it got to her. Her own thoughts, always safe inside her head, were being used to bully her and it was working. She began to cry. It may not have been paired with any screaming to carve up her throat but the tears still fell freely. The sheriff across the table thought that it was the stress of the interview finally getting to her, or maybe the fact that they had finally begun to hit the real meat of the story, but it wasn't either of those things that finally got Ashley to crack and got the tears rolling for the first time since getting off the mountain. She drew her hands into the sleeves and tucked them under her arms and slouched down away from the world and away from the ranger, away from the ashen ghost of herself with her soul-eating not-eyes that saw everything; _'mocked'_ everything.

It was real. It was all real. The body was fake but it was _all real_ because it had all _happened_. And she hadn't been able to do anything. It had always been Chris going first, or Sam having to pull her along, or Mike making the big decisions. All while she sat back and said nothing and let them all handle it because they were scared but they were _better_ at being scared than she was. They were better at _handling_ it. All she could do was panic. Panic and let everyone else take care of her. Not-Ashley had no eyes to cry with, so she probably didn't even know how it felt to be bullied to tears. She didn't know how it felt to be sad because she had never felt anything but lucky when the people around were forced to look out for her. All she did was sit back and let them die off because she was useless. Sit back, watch it all happen, and then heckle someone who _did_ feel it. She smiled again, and if her eyes were hidden anywhere in that black emptiness she gave a wink, ' _We're gonna die._ '

She had thought that to herself just like all the rest of it, had thrown it into that jumbled mess of panic and incomplete thoughts in her head as she thrashed and sobbed and beside her Josh finally cleared up from the daze and came to terms with just what was happening. She'd thought it then and, just after, that voice on the intercom had said it. Had stolen the words right from her. He said that one of them was going to die, and that it was Chris's choice. Said that one of them wasn't going to make it out of there alive. She could hear Josh beside her, shouting at the voice that was his own and calling _'it'_ a maniac. He was scared. He wasn't crying but he was scared- 'livid', even. He didn't want to die. When they heard the whir of the saw blade was when Ashley finally found her voice again and she was begging because neither did she. Her eyes went from Chris to Josh and back again and she couldn't tell if she was breathing or not. Chris tried to get to them but the door wouldn't budge, and even if he'd broken the glass there was no getting through the grating. He couldn't do anything but stand back and pull his hands through his hair and listen to his two best friends _begging_ for him not to let them die.

"So Chris was the one who picked between you and Joshua?" If anyone could break the immersion of her memories, it was sheriff Cline. With that soft voice that was just hard enough to get answers.

Ash nodded, it was all still so fresh and so vivid. "He didn't know what to do." She told the woman in his defense, her voice had gone up an octave and shattered easily. She was fighting the tears, but instead of growing more sad she was only getting frustrated again and she felt her hands trembling where she'd tucked them and for once it wasn't from the cold or the hysteria. There had been the initial panic on Chris's face before the saw had even started spinning, all that bashing against the door was in vain because it was never going to give. Even hours later his shoulder was still sore. When the blade did come to life, it came with that scream of the metal vibrating against itself and slicing through the freezing air, which only seemed to grow louder when it had started inching forward. "I remember watching him through the glass. He was freaking out, didn't know who to look at or choose, or... I don't even know if he was sure it was really happening or not until it got to the split and he _had_ to pick one of us." She reached up to wipe her face when she felt the droplets fall from her chin. They were warmer than her skin was which wasn't surprising, and certainly warmer than her fingers were, but when she tried to rub them away she found that her blood-soaked glove wasn't exactly doing the best job. So she pulled it off and just used her hand instead. Not very absorbent, unfortunately.

"And the voice was Josh's? But he was next to you."

"I don't know how he did it, okay?" Her pulse was rising with her voice, her legs were bouncing again but not to any song. They were going too quick and unsteady for it to be a song. She hadn't meant to snap, and when she caught herself she bit back what she'd wanted to yell next and her lips pressed into a thin line. She tried to relax, tried to take a breath and lean back in the chair again and it was cold against her back, even through the jacket. She hadn't been curling away from her reflection for very long so it hadn't been able to warm up, but even if she'd been pressed against it for an hour she probably would have been the one to make the chair cold instead of vice versa.

The woman across the table didn't urge her to continue, just let her take a moment. Told her in that should-be soothing voice that she could take her time, they weren't in a rush here. She sounded so much like Sam then, not just in tone but if Ashley hadn't been looking at her just a few seconds ago she'd have thought that her friend was in the room with them. Sitting across the table like she sat across from her in the cafe on the corner of her street, the one that was just a five-minute walk from her apartment that they'd go to when Ashley stayed over. Jess and Em would be there with them as well on occasion, though not so much lately considering the whole thing with Mike. Their voices though she didn't hear. And she didn't even need to look up to know that her ears were only playing tricks on her. She'd seen Sam for the last time hardly over an hour ago. Still though, as if she were afraid that she really would see her face again, Ashley kept her eyes down while she pulled herself back together again as well as she was able and dried her hand on her shorts so she could wipe her face again.

' _Love you_ _Sam,_ ' She thought to herself, and even the voice in her head had to stop and take a breath, ' _but specters are_ not _what I need right now..._ '

Catsby and a bath and a twenty-year nap were what she needed. Maybe when she was forty things would be easier. And if they weren't she could have just chalked it all up to a mid-life crisis at that age and gotten a therapist and gotten on with her life.

"I don't know how he did it... Probably a recording 'cause he was right there beside me. It wasn't his body though, just his head. He probably had a... a button, or something... I don't know." She explained, shockingly calm this time. Her voice had shrunken so drastically that the woman leaned forward and had to strain to hear her at first, and would have asked her to repeat herself had she not shaken her head and gone on. "I don't think I would have died." She admitted before any conclusions could be jumped to or any other questions had been asked. Josh hadn't wanted to hurt them, that hadn't been his plan. He wanted to scare them but he'd never hurt them; never put Ashley or any of the rest of them in a position where they might _actually_ die. "He had that... that _fake_ body- pig guts all in it. He wanted it to look real cause the saw was gonna go to him either way. I saw Chris panicking, but that's all he was doing. He said he wouldn't let anything happen to me but I know he never picked. He was too scared. He can't make decisions on a dime like that, he freaks out and can't move. And he told me later... said he hadn't touched the switch, that he couldn't pick. But the tracks still changed and went to Josh. I didn't understand it, Chris didn't understand it. We thought the maniac had ended up picking..." And in truth he had. Josh had been the one to swap the tracks, but they didn't learn of that until later. She'd really only sewn it all together and decided on what to believe when she was left in the basement for an hour with nothing to do but think and try and make sense of the night. But once the tracks swapped and the saw headed for Josh it certainly didn't all start making a little more sense, that was for sure. He was begging and his voice broke when he asked ' _why_ '. It had been so real. He'd sounded so _'real'_. All of those impressions and impersonations had paid off in full - he could have made a 'real' killing in Hollywood.

It hadn't been real, but the trauma still was. She'd never forget that image of the blade carving into his gut inch by inch and how the way it was spinning threw the blood all against her. She was screaming; she knew she had been, but in her mind now she could only hear Josh. Could only hear him crying out to Chris asking what he'd done and Chris being unable to respond; unable to do anything as it tore through his best friend and he was screaming and the sound of it was something that couldn't be unheard. Her throat grew dry at the memory but nausea kept her from reaching for the water bottle.

She turned her face away when the saw cut deeper and the blood spewed heavier and reached her cheek to mix with the tears; looked away not because she wanted to and not because Chris was yelling at her not to look but because she'd flinched. And in some strange and unforgiving way she was grateful because, no matter how brutal it'd been, without the blood making her flinch away she wouldn't have been able tear her eyes off of the scene. It was like driving past a car accident and _having_ to see what was going on.

But then there was nothing. Ashley could feel that blood that'd bathed the entire left side of her, could feel as her hoodie and the sweater beneath drank it up and she recalled that it hadn't been warm. It'd gone right through her tank top as well and it was hardly even room temperature. Her skin was burning from the strain and the anxiety but the blood should've been warm and she hadn't noticed at the time. She could feel it now, too, now that she was thinking about it again. The knowledge that it wasn't really Josh's should have made it easier to handle now, but it didn't. She wanted to strip off her sweater right there in the interrogation room, but instead said nothing. And when the door finally opened and Chris was able to get in and help her down, holding her against him and telling her not to look, every movement pressed the fabric and she could feel it dripping down her skin until they were out in the freezing snow again and she couldn't feel anything at all. But not before she saw him again; not before she saw Josh's upper half still hanging from the wall and the rest of him crumpled and bloody on the floor, and her lips fell open and if Chris hadn't been holding onto her she would have fallen. She couldn't hear it herself but she knew she had cried out one last time before Chris made her look away again. That glimpse though was all she saw before the tears and stinging wind blurred her vision and made seeing impossible.

She let sheriff Cline jot something down on that tiny notepad and went quiet for a moment, letting her head fall back so she could count the tiles on the ceiling again. There were no objections from across the table to letting her take a breather, and in fact she managed to get up to sixty-three before realizing she could just multiply one side by another and get the full number. She wasn't being pushed to talk, but she knew it'd come eventually. But she didn't think about it. Thinking was becoming more exhausting than she remembered.

Her boots were back to bouncing rhythmically to a new song now, had been for a couple of minutes at this point, but she hadn't had it in her to stop them like she had before. They were the reason that the tears had slowed down enough to give her palm a chance to dry, and why explaining Josh's not-death hadn't made her into the absolute wreck she should have been. No, this song... She wasn't sure if it was not-Ashley's taking up her capricious nature suddenly and giving her a break or what but it was like she hadn't even tried to make it hard this time. Ashley didn't have to think to remember this one, but damn she hadn't heard it in a while. Since freshman year, at least, when Beth had sat her down and _made_ her watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show, treating her not having seen it as if it were the worst sin she could have committed as someone who had been her friend for so long and had come into the Washington household far too many times for them not to have known. So instead of the dread of the night, the lyrics to the Time Warp were the only words that came to mind, and a few of them fumbled listlessly past her lips in the form of breathy mumbling. Not-Ashley was owning it though, and even if she hadn't stood she was swaying and singing full out to a soundtrack that wasn't there. The dead-pan eying her, and lack of a smile or color on her face that wasn't blood, made it a little less believable that she was actually enjoying it, however.

When she'd asked for happy-go-lucky this wasn't what she'd meant, but the universe had grabbed at the chance and wasn't letting go. And, honestly, she couldn't complain. Instead of mindlessly bouncing to the tune, her feet traced the steps on the tile as well as they could with her sitting down because, needless to say, Beth had made her learn the dance back then too. And of course Josh had refused to miss out on it when he heard the music all the way from downstairs. That image of him just busting into the bedroom and cutting into the middle of the song to sing very loudly and very terribly along with it, catching them both off guard and nearly making Ashley trip when they missed the next steps... It made her laugh. The sheriff was giving her a look because she'd been in tears just before, but not-Ashley was still singing along and real-Ashley forgot about the both of them for a minute. Josh couldn't hold a tune in a bucket or match pitch to save his life, but Curry be damned if he wasn't gonna sing it anyways. Both she and Beth had stopped practicing the steps when he'd made them jump but that was alright; he took over for them. The movie was still going and that was all the justification he needed to 'Risky Business' right into his sister's shoulder and dance along like the whole world was watching, with Beth nearly in tears from the laughter and trying to ask him when the Hell he'd even gotten home.

The song kept playing in her head and her feet continued to follow the steps, but it didn't match the beat of her heart anymore. She'd been able to calm down significantly until her eyes fell from the ceiling to the mirror again, and she thought for a moment that she could actually see she and Beth and Josh standing there instead of her not-self. Only that sight had gotten her to stop and nailed her boots to the floor. She choked on the whispered lyrics and she thought for a moment that even her tears had been frightened into submission, but then just as quick as they'd appeared they were gone. Like children rushing off to hide. Even not-Ashley had vanished until she forced her eyes shut tight and then opened them again and she was back.

She stared with that same glass-eyed look she'd had upon entering the station, but didn't wonder this time just how uncomfortable she was making anyone. Not-Ashley was back to normal of course, not bothering to jump into Sweet Transvestite next. She was just sitting there like she always had been, not-eyes just as black and soul-eating as usual, staring without even a smile.

And there was nothing else there. Nothing but a woman in a puffy bomber jacket that made her come off a little more intimidating than she already was despite the soft tone of voice. And so Ash did the only thing she could and tried to shake it off. It couldn't have been real. Not-Ashley wasn't even real. The mirror that wasn't even a mirror hadn't shown her anything real and it wasn't about to start building up a truthful reputation, so she decided that it wasn't something that should make her upset enough to want to be sick and finally tore her eyes away from its reflective surface again. The sheriff was giving her those concerned eyes like her dad gave her sometimes, but Ashley's own face was a little less inviting. The crying had stopped but her cheeks were still glistening with the tears she'd only managed to smudge around, and despite deciding that nothing the mirror was showing was real she was still trying to decide just how to feel about it. That glass-eyed look had faded but she still looked like she was caught in a fog. Disoriented and confused and wondering where she parked the car...

Or... the story. Where she'd park-

Where had she left off?

"You were leaving the shed. After..." Ah, always helpful. At least one of them had been listening to her. She avoided mentioning 'after what', and if she'd have caught it Ashley would have silently thanked her for it.

So a murmured 'Oh' was all the sheriff got before Ashley was back to thinking on her story. She was having a hard time deliberating between what was up and what was down so it took her a moment. Coincidentally though, after they'd left the shed she'd _'also'_ been having a hard time with that very same distinction. Could hardly tell which direction was which, let alone where they were headed, and just clung to Chris's sweater and let him pull her along, managing to keep her on her feet each time the snow tried to trip her up. She couldn't tell how far they'd gone before suddenly there were more than just their own footsteps crunching through the fresh powder and she managed to look up from the snow and their boots. Matt and Em were there, she heard her name but aside from that she hadn't heard their voices at all at first until she'd been staring for a few long and arduous moments. It'd been _hours_ by now, at the _very_  least, where had they been? How long had she been out? And Josh... No, no no no, _Josh-_

' _Blood?? Whose blood is that, Ash??_ ' It was Emily, she recognized the tone. Matt was asking if they were okay and his hand was on her arm. Or it might have been Chris's, she couldn't remember.

' _He- He's dead. Died right in front of us man-_ ' Chris. Definitely Chris. Emily again then. Couldn't tell what she said.

' _I don't understand what happened-_ ' Their voices flooded from not-Ashley's mouth, one after the other in a single unending stream. Her impressions were more spot-on than Josh's but she was having a little trouble in making it easy for Ashley to tell them apart.

' _There's a maniac! And... he was- there was a saw... and it was either him or Ash and I didn't know what to do!_ '

Chris's voice was breaking and wavering and he tried not to let himself get choked up as he cried and told them what he'd done. It was his fault. _It was his fault._ Josh was dead- Josh was _dead_ he'd _killed his best friend_. The only thing Ash could add was a distressed 'Oh God' as she came undone and fell to the snow sobbing, her legs couldn't hold her. She cried and her tears fell hot on her bare fingertips, and Matt's voice was raised in panic now. He didn't understand and neither did Em because other than Chris's broken sentences the two were too traumatized to describe it in detail.

' _It tore right through him, man. Cut right through him and- Spilling out fucking everywhere-_ '

' _What?? Oh my God, Chris, WHAT??_ '

And then someone was kneeling in front of her and his hand was on her shoulder and holding her face and moving her hair, and then on her shoulders again as he asked if she was alright, and this time she knew it was Matt because his thumbs wiped the blinding tears from her eyes as well as they could and he made her look at him. Most everything else after that came in bits and pieces or went in one ear and out the other. She could see him talking but didn't hear half of it, and hardly remembered the rest. There was too much going on- too much that had gone on.

' _No, this is insane..._ '

' _-cut right in half..._ '

She couldn't focus on any one voice, couldn't focus on hardly anything when Matt wasn't trying to make her look at him and not think about what'd happened. But when he looked back up at the others- took his attention off of her for just a moment, she caught sight of the blood on her sleeve and suddenly she felt it everywhere, even on the parts of her it wasn't. She'd been taking deeps breaths when he told her to, trying to calm down, but at the realization that that blood - _'Josh's'_ blood - was all over her, immediately she began to break down again and pulled back and away from his hands so as to unzip her hoodie and hurry to shed it with icy, shaking hands.

' _We're gonna figure this out, man-_ ' That was Matt again, but he had to stop himself and leave calming Chris to Emily when he realized what Ashley was doing, and he'd forced her to stop before she could get it all the way off.

She couldn't even tell him that she didn't want to wear it. She _couldn't_ wear it. Not when it was soaked in Josh's blood, or what at the time they'd thought was Josh's blood. So she only shook her head as she cried, falling into full panic mode and trying to pry his fingers away when he attempted to convince her not to and wouldn't let her rip it off. She had her sweater but it wasn't exactly thick, she'd freeze. Matt couldn't blame her though, none of them could blame her. Not even Emily, who had stopped whining and insisting they get out of there to watch the girl fight to get the bloodied thing off; to listen to Chris trying to understand and accept what he'd done to Josh with his words choked and breaking and his sentences unfinished until he couldn't get out much more than a string of 'Idon'tknowIdon'tknowIdon'tknow'. For once she was actually dead silent, standing there with a hand on Chris's shoulder as he heaved and tried to breathe, unable to do or say much of anything that might have done some good; for once she didn't know what to say and though she hid it well there was fear in her eyes. And Matt... he didn't want her to freeze to death when the wind chill really hit her, but just holding Ash's arm tight enough to keep her from prying his fingers away he could feel the blood sop out of the fabric and run down the back of his hand, thick and cold and sluggish. It may have only just happened but the red was freezing already. She was raising her voice to shout at him to let her, though all that came out were louder sobs and the beginning signs of hyperventilation. So he let go. Even if he hadn't Emily would have shoved him out of the way anyhow, as she'd dropped to her knees and was shooing him back, grabbing the once-grey hoodie herself to push it off of Ash's shoulders and help her to get out of it. She bundled it up quickly and tossed it away. Out of sight out of mind, she hoped, running her hands up and down her arms to warm her up and telling her she'd be fine. Mostly Em just didn't want her to try and rip the sweater off too, since it was a lot more red than it had been before.

As for Ash, the wind now blew right through her, but she didn't even think to care. She couldn't hardly feel her fingers anymore when they dropped back to the snow to hold her up so what was the rest of her for it? They'd all doubled up on layers to prepare for the cold, but that had been the back-up jacket under her parka so she was down to the red sweater - which definitely wasn't thick enough - and the tank top underneath. It was better though. She'd rather be cold and stick it out until they got back inside, or even if she had to wait until they were off the whole damn mountain, than walk around with her friend's blood seeping through to her skin, which some had managed to do already.

Lucky for her though she didn't have to go with either. They couldn't just let her freeze, so while he debated with Emily after grabbing her attention and getting her talking again about just what they should do (she wanted to go to the shed and see what they were talking about, wanted to get help, get off the mountain - never mentioned finding everyone else until Matt insisted on it, figured that'd come later maybe), Matt pulled off his letterman and wrapped Ashley in it, buttoning it up for her before grabbing her arms to pull her to her feet with him.

' _God bless Matt._ ' That was all she could think now. ' _If you're really up there then God-_ fucking _-bless. You ever do anything for me to make up for being a shitty person just let it be this. Let him be okay._ ' Because it was true; true what every person in their circle of friends had said at least once in their lives and what she was sure anyone who had ever met him at all had said as well. Matt was truly too good for this world. Way too fucking good. God or Jesus or whoever the Hell was in charge of making people - they must have royally fucked up with him. Because _everyone_ had _something_ about them that made them a bad person on _some_ kind of level, but not Matt. He was the most selfless person on the planet she was sure. God bless Matt.

While he stood and talked over her head to Emily, he was squeezing her tight. Josh was one thing, but because of his size Matt was the very definition of 'bear hug'. Ash just pulled her arms in between them and grabbed two handfuls of that button-up he wore over his sweater to try and still her trembling hands, breathing like he'd told her to. Em was still trying to make sense of Chris's blubbering but kept insisting they needed to go and get help either way.

Matt's jacket was huge and practically swallowed her but it was better than nothing, _much_ better than nothing, and Matt may have been big but he wasn't exactly on the best terms with the cold so he probably had more layers than the rest of them all (excluding Chris, the Onion Nerd, when he had his parka) under that sweater, so he was fine without it. She was still wearing it, too - sitting there in the interrogation room while the woman asked again about how that 'hadn't really been Joshua, right?' Ashley ignored her, she'd already told her it wasn't. Or, well, not so much ignored as she was too busy thinking to herself to really catch anything else. She was still wrapped in Matt's letterman from when he'd put it on her earlier. It'd been a lot less dirty then, had had a lot less blood on it too, but after everything that'd happened it hadn't gotten out completely spotless. She ran her fingers over the cuffs that just about ate up her hands along with her arms and the rest of her.

If there really was a maniac running around, what was to keep him from picking the rest of them off if they stuck around? That was what Emily had said, and there was no arguing over it. Not now, not when even _she_ had begun to panic under the surface of her skin. So Matt hoisted Ash onto his back when it was clear she wasn't going to be walking too fast on her own two legs, and they helped she and Chris back to the lodge, leaving them once again to find Sam and stay with her while the two of them disappeared for the second time to find some sort of help.

They never saw Matt again after he and Emily left them. Not even cold and unmoving in a morgue. There was no viewing, because there was no body. Same as last year.

Too many funerals, not enough bodies for them all.

She missed him snatching her beanie when she wasn't paying attention and lording it a good foot out of her reach. Missed throwing punches he could take to make him drop it. Missed whooping his ass at basketball because he liked to let her win, and then whooping his ass at foosball for real. And having to type out his English papers for him after he'd written them in pen because he typed a whole five words a minute.

She asked again if they'd found him. She'd asked two or three times already as the minutes turned to what felt like hours, but each time it'd been the same. The scant amount of times a stranger came into the room and whispered something to Sheriff Cline she'd ask again but all she ever got was a 'no' or a 'not yet'. It was light out by then though she didn't know the time, it was _'safe'_ even if Mike hadn't managed to kill all the wendigo in that fire. They had to be looking. Everyone else was dead, she'd watched each one of them go and had told the rangers that, but Matt and Jess and Josh she hadn't seen die. They had to be looking for them, they wouldn't just 'leave' them up there without knowing for sure...

' _...Too many funerals... not enough bodies..._ '

"Please-" Her words were said out loud this time. She didn't care. "Please, just _shut up._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Stupid_ amount of fun, srsly.


	5. The Grand Old Duke of York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoopy scary Skeletons -DOOT--DOOT--DOOT--DOOT--DOOT--DOOT-
> 
> In which spoops are followed but nobody's glasses are lost. And unfortunately there is no dog.  
> Aw. :[

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But remember that existential crisis thing? Well it turned out to be less existential crisis, more anxiety attack.  
> Pls be warned, I want to make you sad I don't want anyone to actually hurt.
> 
> Be safe and be loved <3

"I... haven't said anything..." Shit. Crap. Okay, maybe she did care a little bit. She wasn't falling off the deep end, she knew that not-Ashley and whoever else the friggin' Mirror of Erised's evil ~~er~~ twin over there was showing her wasn't real. For the most part. "Ashley, who have you been looking at?" There it was. There it _freakin'_ was. _Frick._ The sheriff had finally decided to Hell with it, she'd ask.

"Nothing."

' _Come on now, Ash, that was pitiful._ ' Not-Ashley scoffed out a chuckle. A psychiatrist sounded good, sure, Ash was all kinds of up for that she wasn't gonna deny it. But an asylum was a lot less fun and a lot less necessary.

"Just... just myself." Better, still stuttery but _technically_ she wasn't lying. Her not-self was still... herself? Sort of? She'd just wanted her to stop talking. Still wanted her to stop talking. She didn't want to think about the funerals she was going to have to go to. Didn't want to think about having to stand there in the crowd knowing that half the caskets were just empty boxes being lowered into the ground. Didn't want to think about the look on Matt's mother's face when she'd eventually find it in her to go to his house to return the jacket. _If_ she found it in her. She didn't want to think at all. Thinking was exhausting; thinking was stressful; thinking only made her start crying again.

"Ashley, if you want, we have someone here who you can talk to-" _God, no._ Not right now. She didn't want to repeat the interview process all over again, not tonight. Didn't want to have to think for longer than she needed, just wanted to sleep.

"I'm just talking to myself, really. I just... everyone does it." Maybe, but people don't often tell themselves to shut up when they weren't even saying anything. She desperately hoped that sheriff Cline would accept her terrible excuse for an excuse, and she pressed the palms of her hands (one still gloved and the other freezing cold) to her eyes as she sniffled and tried to get the tears to stop again. Tried to play them off as just being there because of everything else and not because of not-Ashley's bullying. The sheriff would buy that, right?

' _All my friends are dead, I've got all the right in the world to be a complete and utter mess without being insane._ '

Jesus _'fuck'_ please shut up. The only person she'd ever called a bitch in her life had been Emily and even then it'd somehow developed into a term of endearment, but here she was about to use it for herself.

"I still haven't said anything, Ashley."

Oh _God **dammit**._ Had that slipped out too? She was sure she was coming off as a schizo, and that definitely wasn't good because that definitely meant some time in the nuthouse. When she stopped pressing her hands into her eyes to the point where the pressure hurt and left spots in her vision, she dragged them down her cheeks, taking some of the tears with them, and let her fingers hold onto her lips for a moment as she gave in and thought about just what to say to keep her from being institutionalized upon release. But thinking hadn't become any less exhausting in the past thirty seconds and so all she could come up with were more tired excuses and a sudden realization that the clock on the wall behind her was 'very' loud. Who the _Hell_ had analogue clocks anymore?

She tried to look anywhere but at the woman across from her, with her concerned mom eyes, and brows that were furrowed just enough to be skeptical. Ashley's own were red and puffy and more than just a little bloodshot, like all the color in her face had gone to them and the tip of her nose. She accidentally ended up sneaking a peak though without meaning to before shooting her gaze back to an empty wall, but it was all she needed to see those mom eyes again and hear that mom voice say her name. Slow and cautious and _'worried'_ even. Damn, she was good at this. Ashley wondered briefly how many people she'd gotten to confess to murder.

Probably not too many, this was only the park ranger station of a relatively small town at the edge of the Rockies. Plus, it was Canada. The precinct in LA could have used a woman like her, though, without a doubt.

Ashley decided that instead of being petulant she'd be nice about it. It was the least she could do. She couldn't be mad at her newfound not-mom.

Everyone in the room including the mirror was becoming a not-something today. A whole lotta not-something. So as the not-digital clock on the wall behind her continued to tick and her feet found a song somewhere close to sixty BPM to match it, she finally graced the sheriff with her attention and offered an apology. She deserved that. "I'm sorry... I just... I'm-... I don't know. Can I just keep talking? Please? I wanna get this over with so I can go pass out somewhere."

Playing the nice card seemed to work wonders this time because, though it took her a moment of staring with those concerned but skeptical mom eyes, Ashley's not-mom gave in whether she bought the excuse or not and sat back again to listen. "Yes, of course you can." Way too comforting a tone. Ashley wondered if she'd fall asleep and wake up to 'this' woman making pancakes for her. She couldn't confirm with a hundred percent conviction that she would have been totally against that. "Just remember to take your time."

No thank you. The faster this was over, the faster she could strip down and sit in a shower and cry about it without being stared at. She wished she could have done that before now so that maybe she'd have been less of an emotional disaster.

But that was a big maybe.

She may have been able to stop crying for the time being (mostly), but back on the mountain it'd taken forever for her to get to a point where she was calm enough to quiet down, though she continued taking in unsteady, hiccuping breaths still, her emotions trying to sort themselves out. Even when Chris's tears stopped she could see the fear and the pain plain in his face. They were still shaken up, but there wasn't any getting past that, so they dealt with it as well as they were able and glazed over it temporarily to prioritize Sam. The trip back to the lodge marked the second time Matt had had to carry Ashley today, but she didn't exactly weigh much (he could have bench-pressed her no sweat), and anyways if they'd let her walk they'd had to have held onto her or she'd have fallen into the snow again. That was the whole reason Emily kept both hands on Chris's arm the whole way, making sure he didn't lose focus or his footing. But once they were inside and the initial shock had, for the most part, subsided, they stuck around and were cautious about letting either of them be left on their own. There was no being sure that they were going to be able to stand without help for longer than it took for them to get out of the building, but there was no helping it and Ash got one last hug from Matt and a very, _very_ stern order to find Sam and then  ** _stay put_**  before he and Emily were gone again. When they shut the door though and headed into the main room with intent to look for Sam as had been the plan, they saw that the lodge wasn't exactly how they'd left it, and realized pretty quick that they weren't anywhere close to being out of the woods. Or... off of the mountain, in this situation.

It was deathly silent, the fire was out, and in the dark of the main room lit only by the flashlights in their hands and the moonlight slinking in through the windows they could see the red balloons floating above the banisters (Chris most definitely should have counted himself lucky that Ash hadn't heard him mumble about wondering if there were ninety-nine of them because now was _not the time_ ). There were arrows on them that led from the upper floor down to the basement. Had they been left there for them, or for Sam? Because the latter was nowhere to be found and a trail of what were probably watery footprints led their way downstairs.

"So by this point he'd already caught Samantha?" The sheriff flipped back a page in that tiny notepad she held, checking the (unbearably vague) timestamps Ashley had tried to give her. "You think he did so while you and Chris were unconscious?"

Honestly, Ashley hadn't really bothered to think too much into it. He left them at the séance and let them play ghost hunters for a bit, then knocked them out and she woke up tied to a wall. And he was already beside her at that point so she figured, yeah, probably did it while she was in the shed and Chris was still passed out in the kitchen. "I don't really think he'd have had enough time to run back, dress up, and play hide-and-go-murder with her after being _cut in half_ before we got back to the lodge, so yeah... Most likely." The look on the woman's face made it clear that the sad attempt at a joke on Ash's part hadn't been necessary, but at the same time she still somehow managed not to look judgey? Maybe she had teenagers at home and was used to it. Her dad could do the same thing. But damn, that meant she was probably married already. No pancakes in the morning for Ashley. There was no ring on her finger though so there was still hope.

Thinking about her dad again caused Ashley to regret her words, even if she really hadn't been thinking too much about them before they'd slipped out. She turned her eyes to her fingers and leggings again and wondered just how scared he was that she hadn't called in the morning like she'd promised she would. Or yesterday after she'd gotten off the plane. Jess had called her then so she had just forgotten. Boy, was he in for a _fright_ now, that was if they hadn't already gotten a hold of him and given him a heart attack. He was hardly forty, he didn't need one of those. She didn't want him to be scared, she couldn't handle that, maybe it really would have been best if they'd called him for her.

"She said he grabbed her bag when she was taking a bath, and she went looking for it and all of us and he chased her through the basement and the old hotel and everything else. But he didn't catch her, she hid..." Ash gave in and explained, complacent now when that guilty conscience of hers was able to slap her around a bit. Something aside from it hit her then though, and she shook her head and was quick to correct what she'd said, her eyes turning up and onto nothing in particular while she searched her brain a bit more thoroughly to find a couple more bits and pieces, "Wait, no... No no, cause Sam said he already had the video. She said he showed her Josh getting cut in half... He had to have gotten back before us, must've just set up the balloons and stuff earlier..."

The sheriff hummed a soft 'uh-huh' to herself, looking at that tiny notepad again. "So Sam got away, and he went back for you and Chris..." Surprisingly enough she didn't ask Ashley to go in depth about the supposed hotel under the lodge. Maybe they knew it was there? The mountain did have a history, after all. Or maybe she just figured Ash would get to it when she got to it. Either way it wasn't made the center of attention, and not-mom notioned for her to go on.

The bathroom was empty though the tub was still filled, she wasn't in any of the rooms, the tv was nothing but static until Chris flicked it off, and then there were the balloons. At this point they were both completely and utterly _done_ with the ghost bull, but it wasn't finished with them. When that candle flickered to life with no warning at all it'd been small but still enough to make Ashley's heart nearly jut out of her chest and she shrieked. Josh's picture was just near it and that _sure_ as freaking Hell wasn't helping to get her past the haunted house thing.

It was foreboding to say the least. Foreboding and scary and enough to send a rattling chill through the both of them, though still refusing to believe the whole ghost thing Chris of course covered it up and went on yelling Sam's name. If she was anywhere in the lodge though she'd have heard them by then, they both knew it so there was no point in dragging it on. He was just trying not to think about it; trying not to think about anything because thinking was fucking _exhausting._  He didn't want his mind to go back to where they'd just been, but that was exactly where Ash had unintentionally pulled it to when she kept trying to apologize. She wanted to say sorry for Josh; wanted to tell Chris _something_ that was some kind of comforting. But try as she might, he wasn't letting her. She told him that she knew that Josh was his best friend, she knew that it had been hard; though, really, how could she truly have known? She hadn't thrown the switch. He tried to stop her but she had to say it. She had to thank him for saving her life. He admitted that he didn't know what to do, he loved them both. He had to save Josh, but he couldn't let anything happen to her-

And he told her that he couldn't pick. That he ' _hadn't_ ' picked. There was shock on her face, and hurt, and a moment even when she felt that unmistakable fear for her life though the danger was past.

There was blood drying in the beds of her nails, she wished her gloves had fingers. She didn't know what to say when Chris asked if she was alright, only knew that after all of this she wanted to invest in a pair of them _without_ the fingers hacked off. Before the silence could grow too heavy though, when he called her name again in a tone that was so quiet and unsure and _guilty_ , she had managed to forgive him. There had been that fear that she really _could_ have died back in the shed, but she knew she couldn't blame him. Chris loved her; he loved all of his friends, but Josh... Back home he had his parents, he had his sisters, and he had _Josh_ \- his only brother and his best friend. Asking him to choose was something she could never bring herself to do. She couldn't be mad; she couldn't blame him.

Not-Ashley could though.

' _He probably hates me. He's probably always hated me._ ' Sure, she'd thought it back then but she didn't want to hear it again because she _knew_ it _wasn't true._ ' _They all probably hate me. They probably all want to ditch me and get out of this place._ ' She knew it wasn't true... right? ' _Chris probably picked Josh. He probably picked Josh but didn't do it fast enough. That was probably what happened. That was_  definitely _what happened._ '

Ashley got the feeling that everyone hated her occasionally, it came with the anxiety she didn't want to take medicine for. When she sat alone in her room at night typing away at another dumb little chapter of another dumb little story that was just gonna get lost in her disorganization of dumb little folders on her laptop and suddenly she started to think too much, that was always the very first thing her insecure conscience would jump to. That everyone hated her, even her dad. That he hated her, and Chris hated her, and Sam and Jess and Beth and even _Matt_ who was _incapable_ of hating her _**hated her**_. She was quiet, she was a thinker, but sometimes she had way too much time to think and it wasn't always about good things. Attacks were common but not too much so, she could handle them without meds, so she never said anything. And she kept them to herself and didn't think of everyone's smiles being fake smiles and how they hated her when she wasn't looking- wasn't listening, and she was fine with it. Her friends didn't hate her. No one hated her.

' _Everyone hates me. They'd rather let me die. Chris doesn't like me, he picked Josh. I'm pathetic._ '

Wow. Okay not-Ash, _really_ sitting on the edge of being labeled 'Bitch Material' here.

Ashley could feel her breathing, no matter how quiet she managed to keep it, become hitched in her lungs, and she grabbed the 'M' of that letterman tight and tried to calm her beating heart and quiet its murmuring of painful nothings to her. She turned her face back down to the darkness below the table so she wouldn't have to look at those mom eyes and those mom eyes wouldn't be able to see the hurt on her face and be even more concerned about it. She could handle this. She wasn't going to have an attack, not right now. She was fine albeit a little sniffly. She wasn't going to start crying again. She was _'fine'._

' _Maybe it would have been better if I'd died._ '

 _Sweet Goddamn fucking baby **Jesus**_ this _fucking_ **_'bitch'._**

Ashley took a deep and staggering breath in and held it, running her free hand down her face again and letting it press there over her mouth and warm her numb lips. She wished the rest of her would just go numb already too. That's what happened when someone went into shock, right? Was it too late for her to go into shock? If not she wished someone would tell her because she was just all kinds of fucking _for it_ right now.

No... no, Ash. Gotta do this. Gotta finish it. She tried to give herself a pep talk, even if not-Ashley could hear every word. She was smiling over there in Liar-ville, probably thinking of the best comebacks to shoot down Ashley's attempts at keeping herself going. Keeping herself 'there'.

Saddest freakin' pep talk ever. Not-mom had caught on though. She'd been too quiet for too long and not-mom had caught on and she was looking at her with that worried look again and not-Ashley was behind her with her not-eyes that _still_ wanted to eat her soul and Ashley couldn't do anything but let that breath back out and let her toes start humming the gentle keys of Say Something. The most depressing song so far and it fit way too well. Ashley hated that she knew every word and wanted to hum along with her toes, only because she could only think of how she should have been singing it to herself right now. Seriously, _fuck Christina and A Great Big World_. Hell, fuck the whole _actual_ world too. Not-Ashley was over there mouthing the words. She was practically just trying to serenade her into an early grave.

Ash wasn't gonna give her the satisfaction of that though. So she dropped both of her hands to the block of ice that was the table, and let them idly skate across its surface in little circles and her fingers tap in jittery intervals of three until she decided that she really was as okay as okay could get in this situation. She sniffled once more and wiped what tears might have been left from earlier off of her face, and what ones were trying to build up with the newest bout of anxiety from her eyes. Only then did she finally look back to the sheriff, huff a breath to blow the hair from her face, and go on.

She held Chris's arm after he admitted he hadn't been able to choose, and told him she was okay and it was at least partly true. They needed to find Sam- Chris was having too hard a time handling this conversation anymore and Ashley couldn't say she felt much different, they had to find Sam. So for one last go 'round, they pulled the Scooby Gang back together, and when the door through the home theater to the basement flew open all on its own they were roped back into the fake, ghost-hunting baloney.

Fake even when Ashley saw her. Just there, down the hallway and right before Chris had come through the door behind her- it was _Hannah_. Chris hadn't seen her, he'd been too preoccupied with his thoughts and trying to push it all from his mind by staring at the screen of his phone to have caught up. He hadn't seen her, but Ash had. She'd seen her and there had been no mistaking it even before they learned that it had just all been a dummy and some expensive projectors.

Hannah- It was _Hannah_. O-or maybe Beth?... Even now, she wasn't sure _who_ Josh had meant it to be. Thinking back, maybe it hadn't been either of the girls? Just some dummy to scare them...

"So you _did_ see a ghost...?" This time the amount of skepticism in the woman's tone was enough to get Ashley to snicker, though it was nothing if not filled with incredulity. She didn't even bother gracing her with an answer, and that only helped to reinforce not-mom's apprehension towards assuming what of her delusions were _'really'_ real to her and which weren't. They had all been real at the time, but Ash knew better now. She knew that the 'ghosts' were a ridiculous thing to have believed to have seen. All just... smoke and mirrors...

When she finally got Chris to turn around in time to see those smoke and mirrors though, it was enough to get even his skepticism to falter.

The dolls in their little house had been placed there by Josh, of course, their positions strikingly accurate as he'd probably seen the video too many times to count over the past year - or maybe just the past couple of months since he'd been off his medication. And then there was the diary of course, just to add to how absolutely _shit-tastic_ Ashley was already feeling about the prank, and that most definitely wasn't going to be the end of it. Nah, he had only just been getting warmed up with the scares earlier, and the 'magically throwing shit across the basement at their heads' thing. The concrete halls of the basement and it's back room with all the sheet-covered furniture and other oddities became the dilapidated halls of the old, buried hotel, where there was more dust to breathe than air, however that was _after_ Ash had found the lighting catalog dated for the last year, the scissors underneath it that Chris had insisted she pick up and keep with her, and the camera behind those boxes.

He'd been recording the whole thing; Sam had confirmed it when she said he'd shown her the video of Josh being torn apart in the shed. At the time it hadn't been enough to make them point the finger at Josh though. Ash may not have liked horror flicks too much but being friends with Beth, Josh, and Chris she'd seen enough slasher films to figure where things were headed. It solidified the suspicion that this Psycho was more than just an aimless killer; that he was also some sadistic _fuck_ who liked to watch his handiwork again and again.

There was also the doll head filled with cockroaches that she could still feel crawling all over her hand, but though it'd freaked her out she didn't think it had _actually_ been part of Josh's scheme.

' _Stuff of nightmares..._ ' She'd thought and not-Ashley whispered to her now. She could only wish it was the the stuff of her nightmares. But no, now hers were much worse than an old porcelain baby filled with creepy crawlies.

Just through the next room, it looked as though an old, bricked-up doorway had been busted in, with a small stoop and a few steps just past it. They could see moonlight coming in from the rotting ceiling above. It was obvious that this wasn't the lodge anymore, this was a hotel that had to be ' _decades_ ' older. Neither of them had any idea it was there at all. Ash was scared which wasn't surprising, but so was Chris which _was_ surprising. She didn't want to keep going but they had to. In hindsight, she was glad that going through it all the first time she'd paid enough attention to the corners they turned and which doors they went through, and was beyond thankful to her dad for giving her his good sense of direction and not-too-terrible memory. Without it she was sure she'd never have made it back upstairs when the wendigo got in from the tunnels.

' _Sam is down here somewhere._ ' She'd told herself. They had to find her. Had to find her before someone else did, if they hadn't already-

No. No stop thinking. If she thought too much she was going to start crying again, and crying would only make it take longer to get this damn story out for the rangers and longer before she could leave. She eyed the man against the wall near the door, the one who'd brought her the water bottle. He was still there and she wasn't sure why but she could tell that when she stared he still got very much uncomfortable. There was some minuscule bit of amusement to be drawn from that, at least. If she wasn't thinking too hard about how much she looked just like she'd trudged waist-deep through the very bowels of Hell and then right back again.

Hah... Hell and high water. Beth and Josh would have been proud of her.

They passed up the elevator shaft Sam had hid in and still, after all that'd happened, Chris was trying to keep at least a bit of the no-bad-vibes thing going with an 'in case of killer maniacs please use the stairs' joke. He always at least smiled at his own ridiculous humor when Josh wasn't there to do it for him, but the attempt at one this time was pitiful to say the least. Aside from a bit of his usual spiel though, when he said nothing about it she thought that maybe the gentle whimpering she thought she heard was either in her head, or just the old structure shifting and creaking with the draft pulling through it and the weight of the snow up above. Not-Ashley wasn't over there whimpering it to her now though so she figured it really had been there. And then he stopped; probably just to wait for her, but when she caught up she grabbed his arm and kept him back for a moment more, though it wasn't to scold him for making light of the situation.

Things were getting way too freaky, and though she continued not to mention the sounds she was hearing she couldn't ignore them. She just wanted to go home; back to her room and her cat, back to her dad and watching the hockey games every weekend. Back to where it was warm and safe and no one had died. No one had been cut in half, she hadn't been showered with blood, couldn't taste the iron on her lips still... She had just wanted to forget last year had ever happened. Still did.

And then they were on Hannah again. They had spent the first months after last year talking about it and it was no secret that it wasn't something she wanted to keep talking about, but nonetheless she tried to defend how the poor girl had reacted to what they'd done to her, and when Chris spoke he was back to using 'we' and 'us' again.

 _'No Chris. Stop.'_ She'd wanted to tell him, _'Please, stop. You weren't a part of it. You were with Josh, you were shit-faced and knocked the hell out, you had nothing to do with it. It was Em and Jess. It was Em and Jess and Mike and Matt-'_

 _'And it was me.'_ Not-Ashley hadn't been bombarding her back then, but she'd been doing a fantastic job of doing it herself.

They'd made Hannah look and feel so _'stupid'_ , in front of _everyone_ , Mike in particular. They did a horrible thing thinking it would be funny. It was their fault, not Chris's. But just as Josh did, he'd felt horrible about not being there for the girls; for not being able to smack some sense into Michael or tell Jess and Emily off. Even if he hadn't been a part of the prank- hadn't even been told anything about it beforehand, he still felt guilty. He loved them just as he loved Josh and Ash and all the rest of them. They weren't blood but they were family, and you're supposed to keep family _safe_.

She wished she could have actually told him that instead of just shooting down his attempt at lightening things a bit with another stupid wisecrack.

Needless to say she didn't want to talk about Hannah though, not with everything that was happening now. Even if they had been chasing her ghost. So she didn't let Chris get out any kind of retort before shushing him up and they kept on. The creaking whimpers in the walls that weren't from the wind or from the snow had stopped.

The clues still came flooding in, though, and along with those big, broken support pillars in that open room they found the newspapers Josh had ordered. Chris had found the same article earlier but it had been real then. Now though, they knew the arsonist was fake. The wanted poster he'd seen with Sam was fake... More fake clues for the fake psychopath. And there was no doubt in their minds that if they kept going they were going to find just a plethora of them, but Ash could only shake her head before they could do just that, and she grabbed Chris's arm again to keep him from going on without her.

She'd told him in the beginning when they first found the old complex down there that she was scared, but looking down that rotting staircase with steps that didn't exactly look as if they'd hold even a mouse, and staring into that blackness at the bottom that looked like some kind of gateway to Hell not unlike not-Ashley's soul-eating eyes (they both essentially did the same thing, right?), she finally drew the line. She'd gotten her fill of scares already, she _wasn't_ going down _any_ more flights of stairs _any_ deeper into the nightmare they were stuck in. Her mind was set on leaving and her body was ready to do just the same. She grabbed Chris's sleeve and went to pull him back too, and-

And they were headed down anyways.

He was just as freaked out as she was but he was right when he brought up Sam again. Damn him, having to remind her why they were there in the first place and having such a damn good reason to keep them going. They couldn't leave her. They thought that the killer had her; hadn't known that she'd gotten away from him and that there was no need for them to continue on down into the lion's den. No... no they just ' _had_ ' to save her. So Ashley stared down into that blackness again, the kind of blackness that it was hard for a flashlight to really penetrate (or for a pair of eyes to hide in and wink at you from), and in her head she could only condemn every possible reason they had for doing this. Damn Chris for always being right, damn loving Sam too much to leave her, damn Josh for suggesting the get-together, and damn the whole _damn_ mountain.

But damn her own anxiety most of all for making things just _that much harder_. She wished she was as brave as Sam or Mike, or even Jess... hated being so scared of it all; the dark, and not knowing what they'd find. She cursed her dad and all of her friends for all the spooky stories she'd grown up hearing. The _Hell_ was wrong with them?

The Hell was wrong with _her_? Was that her punishment for surrounding herself with assholes (Matt _not_ excluded)? A lifetime's supply of anxiety and sleeping problems?

There was nothing they could do though, and she loved those assholes too much to _really_ want to damn them, so they just... kept going. Chris heaved a sigh as he too stared into the blackness and took the first steps down into it, but ever the comic he stopped short and turned and still offered his hand with that shit-eating grin, saying she could hold it if she was too scared.

That was the first time his kidding around actually managed to help a bit since before the séance, and for just that short moment she forgot about the gravity of their situation and all that had happened, long enough to go pink in the face and swat his hand away, puffed up and defensive and saying she was fine. He laughed at her and it was a good thing to hear, and when he turned and headed down she followed suit, close on his heels but with caution and one hand on the wall; no trust for the shady staircase. She was glad Matt's letterman was as heavy as it was, because it felt as if the air was only getting colder the further down they went.

"So you believed he filmed it all? The whole night?"

' _All of it. Sick fuck wanted to make a movie._ ' No. Shut it. Bitches don't have speaking privileges. Except for Emily. Josh isn't a 'sick fuck' he's just 'sick'.

"No, just us... I mean, Sam too, but not... Not, like, Mike and Jess. Or Matt or Em either. Just stuff in the lodge, I think... A-and the shed, too. With the saw and everything." Ash's voice had gone calm and quiet again as she'd continued with her story, after things had calmed down for she and Chris and the woman across the table had stopped asking questions for a while. But not-mom had wanted to ask about the camera they'd found for a good few minutes at this point, and had stopped Ashley when she took another breather to really think and remember what had happened, and to tell her ghost across the room that it was a pie hole not a lie hole and she needed to stop speaking. "You could probably find everything. I mean... we didn't take the camera out with us. And there are the computers, too." They said they'd found Emily, so the way down to the basement was still obviously accessible. There was no way in Hell they'd get her down there again but she'd gladly give directions to the room with the saws if they wanted that footage badly enough. With it, they could get Josh on how he'd terrorized them, but still they'd have lacked the evidence to stick him with 'actual' murder, and that brought her some kind of comfort and helped keep her conscience at least some kind of clear. Her feet had long since run out of lyrics for Say Something and settled on something soft that she didn't recognize.

"I told Chris that I thought it was a set-up." She admitted, and not-mom looked up again from her notes to listen. "We still... still didn't know anything. But with the camera and the newspapers and everything else... I dunno. I just... it was ' _off_ '. It was like this maniac just wanted to watch us run around, like... like lab rats." It'd been rolling around in the back of her mind ever since they'd found the camera. Ghosts had still very much been a possibility but they hadn't seen another yet, and so it'd given her time to think. She'd been completely suckered into Josh's hoax about the ghost leading them around but after finding the newspapers she was becoming less and less convinced of everything. It could have been leading them still - could have helped them find the camera and the catalog and the scissors, sure, but everything else... She couldn't shake the feeling that it all tied back to the man who'd killed Josh. But they were still missing... something. It didn't make any sense.

What did make sense though, and what they knew for certain was still missing, was Sam.

The further in they went chasing those dummies and projections the worse it got. The floor was cracked, the drywall had shed, there was rubble everywhere... and the ceiling was falling apart even now if they so much as bumped anything. So they were careful. They found the batteries and the timers hooked to them, and Ashley muttered something more to herself that even the ranger who was still leaning up against the wall who she had nearly forgotten all about had probably heard. About how Josh ' _really had been controlling every little thing_ '. And then of course there was the dummy strapped to the stand near a lamp bright enough to light up the entirety of the next room, without help from any moonlight coming in foggy from the ceilings. It was like some kind of freaky-weird experiment or something, or Frankenstein's Monster, even. Though a bit more mannequin-esque.

Ashley had seen it first, and she thought upon first glance that it was a person. Maybe even Sam. Either way it scared the living-Hell out of her which was not surprising in the least, and she gasped loud enough to freak Chris out and give him a start before he saw it as well. But it was when they entered the next room that he got real religious real quick with a breathless 'Jesus H. Christ', and a few more exasperated swears on his lips at the sight and when the door slammed shut behind them. Things transitioned from a cheap haunted house on Halloween (which, even those Ashley had never wanted to go into before) to full on Fright-Fest in an instant when their flashlights hit the tables and the walls and everything on them.

And, of course, Pumped Up Kicks was next on the playlist. She'd been waiting for this one. Revenge and murder, so it was mostly appropriate. And catchy to beat, her boots had good taste.

Grand. Just... Just _Grand_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to make fun in my notes, BUT  
> srs bsns happens sometimes and I am, _unfortunately,_ not Jesus.
> 
> So, on a more serious note (haha, 'note'. I'm hilarious), the daily updates may be lagging a bit this week. The next chapter is just about done but I've been dealing with a bit of a not-Robit of my own and lemme just tell ya that I ain't no kinda good at handlin' the bitch.  
> Gimme a couple days to kindly hand her ass to her and I'll be back.  
> *throws on shades* LATER NERDS <3


	6. Here We Go Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clues galore °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
> 
> And Ashley discovers that she may not be an only child. Could she possibly have this whole other Canadian family she never knew about ??  
> Probably not but _who knoooooows_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rips shades off* 'SUP, NERDS ?

Now, thanks to the boys, Ashley had seen every Saw movie to date (and apparently, so had the Psycho), and thus was hit with a striking familiarity and all the unease and nausea that came with it upon having the heavy doors slam behind them and being forced to face the bloodied horrors of the next room. The workshop had been like some sort of torture chamber and she half expected to see a man shackled to a pipe, but apparently it was strictly pig-only as there was no prisoner and instead the only victim was a single hog hanging gutted from a hook in the darkest corner, the floor beneath it encrusted with different shades of black and rust-colored blood. Coagulated clots of it plugged up the drain and made it impossible for it all to go down.

She wondered now if it was that _particular_ pig's blood that she wore, crusted against her skin beneath her sweater. A jittery hand reached to touch the letterman but hesitated now that she was thinking about it, because if she pressed a little too hard she'd have been able to feel the dried red crackling and that would _'not'_ have been pleasant. The smell was foul and filled the entire room beneath the hotel, and she could smell it still, hours later. It hadn't clung to her too well since it'd been so long, but it clung to her memory and was going to take more than a few hours in the shower to scrub off. Pigs blood: terrible for the skin _and_ the water bill.

Aside from the one it hung on, there were meat hooks along one of the walls as well, with chains and more saws, another of those freaky fucking mannequins... blood everywhere. It covered the floor beneath the hog, was left spattered on the floor in the shape of overly-large boots running back and forth everywhere, and one sink in particular was nearly filled to the _brim_ with it- thick and rotten and _wet_ still. She could only imagine what was stuck in _that_ drain.

' _Looks like too much to have come from just one pig._ ' Not-Ashley murmured to her, and Ashley's eyes pulled up from the floor to shoot her a look past the sheriff's shoulder. The man against the wall must've thought her eyes had found him again, because he cleared his throat like he had earlier and tried to focus on something else. _Anything_ else that wasn't this girl with her glass eyes and bloody everything. Regardless, she 'hadn't' been looking at him so he had nothing to worry about, as she was too busy watching not-Ash give her a shrug of innocence. She began to feel the soreness in her right shoulder returning even if the gesture hadn't been her own. ' _Some of it's new, too. Maybe it's Sam's. She'd have heard us by now, it might be Sam's. What if she's dead already and we're just looking for a body?_ ' Even if it'd been hours ago, hearing those thoughts again still filled her with that sense of dread, and instead of the memory of the stench from the rot it was this that made Ash feel sick all over again. They hadn't been looking for a body back then, no, but that was all the search teams would find now. Burnt black in the rubble of the lodge and probably still red and hot. It'd only been a couple of hours, after all, and there had been a lot to burn.

' _She's dead. She's got to be dead, I know she's dead._ '

"OhmyGod, I _know_ that already..." Ashley murmured to herself, pressing her hands against her cheeks and letting out an exasperated groan. She really was just so done with this bitch, honest-to-God just _'so'_ done. Foster the People wasn't exactly helping to pump her up any; she still felt that lingering anxiety from the attack that could have been and she knew way too well that until it was _completely_ and totally out of her system it was still way too much of a threat.

She contemplated grabbing the water bottle now and seeing if she could just water it down or flush it from her blood, but just thinking about drinking anything only made that sick feeling worse. It wasn't exactly just going to get up and walk out of the room though like the ranger against the wall looked like he _really_ wanted to do. Sorry buddy, you're the one that walked in here, now you get to sit back and be stuck with us because finding that one break in the conversation where it would feel appropriate to step out was gonna be hard without too many breaks in the conversation to find. In it for the long haul, dude.

Ashley huffed out another heavy breath for him because he couldn't have been too much older than her, probably only so awkward when she looked at him because he was new. Not quite tempered to what she was 'certain' must have been a _horribly_ bloody job, being a park ranger at a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. He probably hadn't even seen his first dead moose yet. She wasn't really in a place to be so mean though, and so when she saw him sneak a peak at her again before his eyes shot right back to the far wall she looked back across the table, but to not-mom this time instead of not-Ashley, her fingers still clinging to her cheeks when she heard the woman's voice again calling to her to get her attention. She just let them hang there though, clammy yet freezing cold all at the same time.

"You know what already?"

Ash was glad that what she'd said had sounded relatively normal. Like she'd just been reminding herself of something. She wasn't _too_ worried about coming off schizophrenic this time, but not-mom looked like she still was. She really wished she'd stop staring at her like that, because she was honestly just starting to look more and more like Sam and that hurt more than she wished it would. Not-mom couldn't exactly read her mind and know to stop though. Or could she? Could not-moms do that?

Could _actual_ moms do that?

Sam could do that. Sometimes.

If she could then she was really just being _stupid_ rude right now, but on the bright side maybe she could have seen that Ashley wasn't really a schizo deserving of institutionalization, and that was some kind of comforting. Being less worried about coming off as having such a serious psychological disorder and thus less prone to admission to any places advertising quaint and cozy, perfectly private white-walled rooms didn't make it any easier to find an excuse though, unfortunately. "Just... what was in there, is all. Th-the... kitchen... area... place. I'm not really sure what it was. I was just thinking about it is all. Just thinking." _Smooth._ Didn't sound crazy _at all_. Not in the least bit. Just 'thinking', because that wasn't painfully obvious to anyone with eyes the _hardest_ thing for you to be doing right now. Excluding not-Ashley with her not-eyes; _she_ could see perfectly well with those black pits in her skull how hard it was, but was still totally game for making her do it. Bitch.

Ash knew already that her excuse hadn't been a good one, not in the least, but before it could be questioned she was quick to go on. Anything to keep filling any potential quiet; to keep from giving the demon in the not-mirror a chance to speak. To keep the man against the wall who wasn't a man but a kid because she'd actually gotten a look at him from being able to find a moment to leave, because making him uncomfortable was the one amusing thing she could find to keep herself some kind of okay.

All of this talk about crazy had her feet buzzing with the sound of Gary Jules singing about how the whole world was mad and her toes were dragging lazily across the tile, back and forth back and forth. She wasn't sure she could remember all of the words but at least it was soft, and potentially relaxing. Not-mom could hear the rubber soles catch the tile and she raised a brow but didn't question it. Ashley's hands fell from her face to her neck and she pushed her hair down flat, letting out another huff this time for herself.

She remembered asking if Chris thought that the workshop and everything in it had been ' _His_ ', even if it was obvious that it was, and though his tone deceived his words he still managed a witty comeback about the Washingtons' potential hobbies. Always joking. Beth and Hannah both had smacked he and Josh more than a couple of times for their shitty senses of humor.

Unfortunately, neither his words nor the memory of the boys getting whacked upside the head by a book or any other blunt object lightened her mood at all, and even though he was the one who'd said it Chris wasn't smiling either. Making light of things was just second nature; an attempt at keeping himself from sinking into someplace worse than where they were already. A dark trench he wouldn't be able to pull himself out of. He couldn't exactly come up with much of a joke about the pig though, and especially not when things became far more real at the sight of the corkboard.

It had all of their faces on it, and the sight of herself up there made Ashley's heart freeze up when she leaned in closer to get a look. Because it hadn't been from the past few hours since they'd been here, or even last year when the girls had gone missing. No, it was more recent than that... In the background were the mountains not too far from home, where Sam would drag her hiking when the weather cooled down just so she could get out there early and watch the sun come up. The last trip they'd taken hadn't been a month ago, and her photo wasn't the only one that was recent.

Just below hers was Chris, the background of his hosting the lights and familiar shops along the boardwalk. Sam's was in the cafe down her street where they got coffee some mornings, Emily's from a clothing store and Mike's from some restaurant. Matt's was during a game when he had his helmet off, and Jess' was in front of her own house... And then there was Josh... His was at the very bottom just under Em, and she couldn't tell where he had been but that didn't matter to her, because unlike all the rest of them the eyes of his photo had been scratched out. So hard and with such _violent_ intent to the point where the photo had managed to crinkle and tear and there was hardly a face there left to recognize.

He'd been watching them. Not knowing it was Josh, all either of them could think was that that past year this sick fuck had been _watching_ them. He'd followed them home from the mountains and stalked each and every one of them for whoever the fuck knew how long. Going by the fact that the pictures were stacked and the ones on top weren't the only photos of each of them, her guess was a while. Chris let out that breathy 'Christ' just behind her, and with what had just happened to them and to Josh she couldn't disagree when he suggested it was a hit list. With only Josh's face having been mutilated, it should have been a comforting thought that no one else was dead yet. But lists were meant for checking off, and the night was nowhere close to over.

Chris had his hands to his face as he stood and tried to deal, and she watched him look to the ceiling and take a breath and mutter more freaked theories about what might could happen still, and though she was still caught on the relief of seeing Sam's photo untouched she couldn't blame him. She'd seen that dark pit following him around back on the steps when he'd teased her on the way down; seen it grow when he made a crack about the elevator, and pretty much every other time he'd tried to lighten things since Josh. It was stuck to his heels like a shadow and creeping wider and ever deeper with every new grim possibility they stumbled across.

Kudos to him because he really was trying his damnedest not to fall in. Extra kudos because he was trying to make her laugh at the same time. Maybe he'd seen a pit of her own stuck to 'her' heels? Whatever it was, she couldn't really express just how lucky she knew she was to be stuck with an optimist, but if it hadn't been for her flashlight catching another door just hardly cracked open and grabbing her attention so soon she'd have been right there with him voicing her own worries and panicking just the same. Maybe even trying to call everyone else though she knew they got no signal on this mountain.

It was at that point that she came to the realization that she'd left that phone in the pocket of her hoodie. The hoodie that was now most likely buried under a foot or two of snow, outside the shed and under some tree. Out of reflex she still checked the pockets of Matt's letterman but she knew it wasn't going to be there. There _were_ places to get signal on that damn mountain even if they had to search high and low for them, and it wasn't the anxiety that usually came with losing a phone that worried her about not having it, but the fact that if she _did_ happen to find one of those hot spots it would have been useless.

Her phone was the least of her worries, but still she found herself smacking herself in the head for it. There was no use worrying about it at that point and it probably would have been useless anyways but _still_. Not having it left her paranoid that if she needed to and was _able_ to contact anyone, she wouldn't be able to.

At least she freaked out less than Chris would have if it'd been his. There was a little solace to be found in that, and she was glad to be able to get over it pretty quick compared to how Chris might have. Hell, she didn't even mention it out loud to him after realizing it wasn't there, only sighed and whacked herself in the face with the butt of her flashlight on accident. He'd have been knocking things off tables and tipping over furniture. Fucking junkie.

She rubbed that spot on her forehead where she'd hit herself, and by then Chris had stopped worrying about how they were all up on that list for long enough to find his balance on the edge of that emotional abyss tailing him close and had turned around and seen that same door she had. The debate about whether to go in or not hadn't lasted too long at all as he was pushing it open before she could even protest.

How Josh had gotten it onto a reel of thirty-five millimeter film she'd never know because she wasn't exactly schooled in the witchcraft of movie magic, but when Ash hit the button on that projector that'd been set up just for them, that too-familiar scene from last year played against the wall. She'd never seen the actual tape before. Aside from Matt who'd been holding the camera, she wasn't sure any of them had. She'd thought it'd been deleted, actually. She and Matt had been suckered in last-second, after all, having followed the others upstairs just to see what was happening last year, and Jess had just stuck the camera in his hand. At the time of course even they had thought it would just be some fun prank, but after the girls ran out and it was obvious the damage they'd done, she was sure he'd just discarded anything he'd recorded.

Apparently that hadn't been the case and she wished she could have gone back to last year and shaken him around a bit for not getting rid of it immediately. Time traveling, however, like blinking terrible things out of existence, lay to everyone's dismay _outside_ of her not-so-wide range of practical talents. So, along with the ghost, this murdering maniac had also been able to jump aboard the 'make Ashley feel like an absolute piece of shit' train, and even though he probably hadn't meant too even Chris had hopped on after watching for a few moments, seeing for the first time just how enthused everyone had been with the 'fun'. And when he spoke up about it was when she was really hit hard, and it took just about everything she had not to start crying about it again. She'd never seen the video. She'd been there; watched it first hand, she'd gotten to feel that dread sink into her chest and the whole rest of her when Hannah ran out of the lodge and had never wanted to feel it again. Her stomach was in knots and she felt like she could puke, and though she didn't say it she was sure her face spelled it out just as well.

' _It had just been a joke!_ ' Yeah, maybe, back then. But jokes aren't supposed to get people killed. Jokes are supposed to be funny but it couldn't have ended up any less so. It was stupid and now Beth and Hannah were dead because of it. _Jokes_ aren't supposed to mean the end of seeing the bright faces of two people you love, or the real laughter and smiles of a third. _Jokes_ aren't supposed to mean the end of constant sleepovers and marathons of shitty musicals and learning the steps to ridiculous songs about that time travel ability she didn't have, of camping out in the Washington's too-large back yard only to run inside when it started raining. The end of anymore hours spent laying on the edge of Hannah's bed, running potential story prompts by her to see if they sounded stupid or not.

The end of Josh's two main pillars of support and the end of two of the better parts of his life.

Never wanting to stick to one mood for too long, not-Ashley's tone turned on a dime from defensive of what they'd done to nothing but regret. An upset and hating-herself ache in her words didn't mean she was gonna stop smiling though. ' _God, I'm such a piece of garbage._ '

She was mocking her again.

What happened to the no-speaking thing from earlier, huh? Even if it was true, Not-Ashley had no right to be reminding her of it. No right to remind her of anything at all. She wanted to _'forget'_ everything that had happened, not wade in it the rest of her life. More Hell and high water and all that not-so-fun bull.

She was right though, and Ashley's feet stopped pulling across the tile and she felt _terrible_. It wasn't a new feeling in the least, but even her legs couldn't bring themselves to gather the energy it took to keep bouncing because complete and utter _'garbage'_ was inanimate and didn't have energy for singing feet. Not-mom noticed the sudden change and the slump of her shoulders, and going by that look that was _still_ on her face Ash came to the conclusion that she really couldn't read her mind because if she could she probably would have offered her a hug, and those pancakes now too. Her potential kids were potentially pretty lucky to have a not-mom like her.

But just like she'd apologized a million times already tonight, she went ahead and apologized to Hannah once more now, but the only ones to hear were the rangers in the room with her. See, the thing about apologies, and pretty much just prayers in general, is that people who are dead tend to be relatively crappy listeners. She wondered though if they still counted. If she'd still maybe get credit for trying.

' _Probably not._ ' Not-Ashley gave another shrug, and like before it made her shoulder and the whole rest of her arm ache, but Ashley couldn't even argue with her. She still didn't feel bad about deciding she'd consider him a shitty person (because it was true), but if God did actually count 'trying' to apologizing as worth anything, he would have likely made a special exception just for her and ignored it. Wasn't even willing to relay the message to the girls. He really wasn't helping Ashley to think better of him, playing favorites and all.

And, actually, maybe scratch the earlier part of how just 'watching' the video made her feel the worst about the whole prank? Because when the calm shot of Hannah, smiling like she had nothing in the world to worry about except dealing with a hungover Josh in the morning, showed up and played for a moment to lull them into a false sense of security and then ripped to that bloodied and pale face with its empty eyes and a loud screech that bounded off the tile and straight through the both of them, she screamed. Loud enough that Chris jolted and flinched away from her more than he did the movie.

' _Holy shit just put me in the fucking ground already._ ' She remembered that running through her head. Not-Ashley had looked way too excited for someone who had no eyes to look excited with, knowing it was coming and jumping at the chance to repeat it back to her now. If she had it her way, Ashley would have been in the ground in a couple of weeks along with her friends. Or, what was left of them. If there was anything left of them.

Neither she nor Chris had exactly _'not'_ been expecting the scare, honestly. With everything else that'd happened already, 'jumpy' was the understatement of the fucking millennium, and the video didn't help. Ash hadn't been crying before - had managed to hold up pretty damn well in her opinion, with all that they'd found and having to be dragged about through the darkness of the old hotel. But she was pretty sure that that had been the last bit of fright her timid heart could handle because she was crying now, that painful thrumming in her chest way too fast for her to stand still; so she paced about in circles with Chris trying to calm both her and himself down.

Props to him for at least _trying_ to be the voice of reason. Since they'd been thrown into that hell _and_ all before it. She couldn't handle it- the ghosts, these videos, everything just flying around- She felt as though she was finally losing it, as if Josh hadn't been enough to push her over the edge already.

But, of course, Chris was the skeptic. Thank _Christ_ for the skeptic, standing there grabbing her shoulders and shaking her a bit until she looked at him, raising his voice just enough to catch her attention and make her listen for a second. If he hadn't have grabbed her she was sure she'd have tripped and fallen right into that bottomless black pit that was her shadow. ' _Think about it-_ ' He'd insisted, not-Ashley mimicking his words since he wasn't there to repeat them to her, ' _ghosts don't hook up video cameras._ '

Alright, she'd give him that.

' _They don't play games!_ '

Maybe... maybe not that one. Too many scary stories, too many Poltergeist reruns. She bit her lip and bit back the words of protest, and gradually the tears slowed down as she stared at him; saw how _'sure'_ he was that this was some _one_ not some _thing_ messing with them. She grabbed the hands on her shoulders but he didn't let go until she finally took a breath and gave an uneasy nod to show that she'd heard. That she'd understood and accepted it as some kind of truth.

It was the maniac who'd set it up for them. The same guy who killed Josh, who they thought had Sam now as well. Again he wished aloud that he wasn't right, but he was.

The projector sputtered to a stop and Ashley was close on Chris's heels again as they left the room and headed through the curtained area and into more of the run-down halls, only until they reached that huge door that, going by the look, lead into some kind of walk-in freezer, a wide smear of blood on the floor leading right to it.

' _Probably Sam's._ '

Ash let out yet another groan right in the middle of her story and those mom eyes were on her again. No, it wasn't Sam's. She knew that by now, not-Ashley was just looking for every chance she could to interject and make her miserable. She got it: Sam was gone. That was a known fact already, she really wished the bitch would let her live with it.

When Chris got it open they saw that that was exactly what it was: a freezer. She could feel the drop in temperature from five feet away and recalled feeling shocked that it could _get_ any colder down there. Chris wasn't exactly going to be able to stand there holding the door open for long enough for her skin to adjust though. It looked like a regular freezer door but it was old and heavy and wasn't exactly going to keep itself open for them to just go hither and yon and their leisure, so once it was open he was ushering her through because if it were to slam shut he wasn't confident he'd be getting it open again since it hadn't been closed all the way when they'd found it. But just before she was about to take him up on his offer she glanced back and there was a figure. She caught just a quick glimpse through a half-destroyed wall, but she was sure something had moved. At first, she thought that maybe it was Sam; that maybe she was alright. But no... No, it'd been too bulky. She wasn't sticking around, and when her heart jumped so did the rest of her, and she squeezed past Chris into the freezer just before the weight of the door could cause his boots to slide across the bloody tile and lock her out.

"It was Josh that you saw?" Ash was wondering when she'd be interrupted again. By someone other than the one in the mirror.

She pondered it for a moment though, the answer rolling around on her tongue as she decided what to tell her. _Technically_ yes, it had been Josh. But honestly she couldn't bring herself to really refer to he and that psycho killer as the same person because they _'weren't'_. She'd tried to refrain from openly admitting they were the same person out loud for the camera to hear, to the best of her ability at least, even if they did already know, so in an attempt to keep from having to say it she just nodded and hummed her answer. It could have been a 'yes' hum; could have been a 'no' hum. That was up to their hum-interpreters to interpret because really she wasn't sure what it was either.

She wondered if the man who wasn't a man but a kid standing against the wall there, too young to have a gun on his hip, was one of their specially-trained hum-interpreters, because he was actually willingly looking at her now. With that auburn hair and the green eyes and a not-too-tan complexion she could have almost considered him a not-brother at this point because he was so young, but damn, that bravery spike sure shot that horse in the face. He didn't even look away when she ended up staring right back and they were caught in the same staring contest she and not-Ashley had had earlier that her ghost still hadn't quite given up on. She wondered if he had masterfully interpreted her hum as a yes or a no because with that look she was getting she sure as heck couldn't tell. He was dead set on hanging onto that bravery though either way, because he still didn't look off again when she kept on talking and was still looking at him.

Be it Josh or the Psycho trudging close behind in that room they'd just left, he hadn't caught up to them before they made it into the freezer, but Ash was sure he'd heard the door close behind them as it was so heavy and rusted that the creak of its hinges could have woken the dead. Upon exploring just a few steps into that walk-in, she and Chris discovered just why the place had seemed so much colder than the lodge, even if it was underground and the wind wasn't blowing through the place: there was a generator keeping it feeling like the damn arctic zone - keeping the pigs cold. There had only been the one in the other room, but here there were so many of the hogs all hollowed-out and hung up to dry here, and it made her want to run right back out and into maybe-Josh/maybe-the-Psycho's arms because she half-expected to turn and see that one of the pigs wasn't a pig at all but a person with a face she might have recognized. The floor was painted with a thick layer of that same old and rotten blood as had pooled beneath the first one, but the particular trail they'd followed was much more new. A hole formed in the pit of her stomach, and she found herself reaching for Chris's sleeve again. He'd suggested a couple minutes before that it could've been Sam's and she'd been fine, but seeing how it just went on and _on_ and there was just so _much_ of it...

' _She's dead just like Josh is dead and just like we're gonna be dead-_ '

Ashley's hand dropped from her temples where she'd been trying to nurse a migraine into calming down, and she reached to grab the water bottle in front of her and twisted it open. To Hell with drowning out the anxiety, she just wanted to drown out the bitch in the not-mirror. It probably didn't work like that and she doubted that not-Ashley was a result of dehydration but oh well, at least the amount of 'momitude' in the sheriff's eyes calmed down a little when she finally accepted that she should drink something.

She still felt sick after half the bottle was gone, but things were quiet again at least. Even if they hadn't been though, not-Ash would have been forced to shut up as she went on anyways, because as soon as she and Chris pushed open the next set of double doors there was that spark of hope. Whether it'd been out of terror or just anything else, they still heard Sam's voice, calling out somewhere close. And that meant she was still alive.

"You said though that he hadn't caught her?"

Honestly, this time around, Ashley was a little relieved to get another break from talking, and just looked up and shook her head, seeming to the woman to be a little more coherent and clear-headed though inside she was still twisted up and frustrated (and now feeling very very sick from downing half that bottle of water). "He didn't. It wasn't her, I think it was just another recording." She admitted, and she had probably been right. Didn't know because she'd never actually found out, but Sam hadn't been caught so it couldn't have actually been her. "We _thought_ he caught her though, at least at the time we did. But we went into the next room where it came from and thought we saw her in the chair too, but it... also... wasn't exactly her."

And thank God... Thank _God_ it wasn't her sitting there when they turned that chair around. It was just a dummy. Wearing her clothes, with a burlap sack on its head and a rope around its neck. Part of Ash had wished it really would have been Sam, because that meant they'd have found her and they could have gotten out of there, but at the same time there was that doubt that she'd have been alive and breathing if it had been.

Ash questioned what the Hell was going on, of course; they'd _just_ heard her. In _that_ room. Captain Obvious behind her pointed out that it was just a dummy of course, as if that hadn't been the easiest thing to see, when she muttered to herself that she didn't exactly get why that thing was sitting there dressed how it was instead of the real Sam. Chris didn't know, he was questioning it too. Neither of them had the answers, so they weren't able to do much of anything but stand there not knowing, because they couldn't exactly ask the dummy where she was shopping these days.

Ash was actually doing pretty well in the area of 'not beginning to freak out again' so far, pressing her hands to her cheeks again to keep the warmth there instead of in her eyes because she knew what was coming. She was doing a lot better than back then when she'd been trying to breathe and get over how her hopes shot up and then were crushed again immediately after. However, all of that calm Ashley had managed to hold onto while sitting in the interrogation room flitted away all at once when she remembered how suddenly Chris had dropped the light. She'd shrieked from the fright of the sudden darkness that swallowed everything, leaving her blind and fumbling for the flashlight and only remembering the scissors in her back pocket when she stood and he was there, coming at her with the gas mask, and...

"I stabbed him." She said quickly. Her hands found each other and she wrung her fingers harshly, her teeth pulling across her bottom lip again as she thought about it. If she'd known it was Josh... Well she couldn't say she wouldn't have at least 'jabbed' at him considering the situation, but she sure as Hell wouldn't have had it in her to _'stab'_ him. Especially if the realization that he was still alive had hit her _right then_. She'd probably have wanted to hug him post-jabbing. "I- I stabbed him and I tried to get away but I didn't know! I 'swear' I 'didn't' know!"

"Didn't know?... Who did you stab?"

Oh, like she didn't _'know'_ already. She was baiting her for the answer, Ash knew that perfectly well; she needed it for the camera after all so she wasn't mad. It was a little agitating but being mad took energy and the memory had made her antsy enough. Plus she was getting that _'look'_ again, with the brows that were just furrowed enough to be concerned. Just like they'd been before. Jesus Christ, how did her friends handle their own moms? Her dad had never been this adamant about getting answers; even if he'd tried he wasn't any good at it, and she wondered if all moms were like this. This was almost as exhausting as _thinking_. She complied though, her words stuttering out, trying to force them out quicker than her mind or her lips could form them, "I stabbed the maniac! I didn't _know_ it was _Josh_ , but then _he_ was the psycho and how was I supposed to know that Josh had all the _saws_ and the _gun_ and _ohmyGod-..._ "

Shit, there it was. She'd ratted him out and called them the same person like she'd been trying not to do and it made her chest hurt and she felt just as much like garbage as she had. That's fine, not-mom, don't get up. She'd take herself out to the curb. In a minute though, because half way through her words she couldn't exactly stop to kick herself. Where they found the energy in a soulless pile of human trash she wasn't too sure but her legs had started fidgeting again, and to... to Pharrell?

Wow, 'Happy'. The irony was painful. Not-Ashley was getting better at this. Or, when it came to the sake of Ashley's sanity and making her feel any kind of okay, she was just getting way worse at it. She was smiling again though, so in ghost-bitch's opinion _She_ sure thought she was doing a good job.

Ash let her legs do what they wanted though. She wasn't going to think of the lyrics this time (that incessant clapping that came with the music though still got to her), because she had more important things to make her nauseas again as the memories came flooding back. Of seeing that mask with hollow, black eyes, with no lips or nose just rubber teeth, coming at her in the dark; of having that saw inch towards them, seeing Chris pick up the gun and raise it to his jaw... She could feel her cheeks growing more hot than she had wanted them as the tears built and her voice rose and _shit she was going to start crying again_. She really was doing a lot of that today, but at least she managed to say it all beforehand.

' _All my friends are dead, I've got all the right in the world to b-_ '

She shook her head and refused to hear her not-self's words this time around. She'd said this already. Thanks for the support and all, if that could in some morbid way even be considered support, but she _really_ needed to shut the Hell up if she was just gonna start getting repetitive. She could at least _try_ being original. Or... as original as one can get, being a figment of her imagination and all.

"We didn't know it was Josh, and he gassed Chris and Chris dropped the light, and then he came at me with the gas too and I stabbed him with the scissors I found. He just came right back though, and just," She gesticulated as well as she could when telling them about the scare, talking with her hands nearly as much as she was with her voice, and motioned to that shiner Josh had given her. He swung at her so suddenly and she didn't react fast enough, caught up on how even with the voice changer that string of 'no's that left his lips as he grabbed his shoulder and ripped the scissors out sounded almost... _familiar_. She'd felt the leather of his gloved knuckles make contact before she could think to run, and the next thing she knew she was waking up strapped to a chair and unable to move. Honestly, the black eye didn't hurt so much as the whole 'head-hitting-the-tile' part, because that one she could still feel after waking up with a fuzzy head and a terrible ache in her temples for the second time. Only instead of hanging she was sitting, and it'd been _Chris_ calling for _her_ this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> I was workin' on chapter 9 a bit last night and lemme just tell ya that one is gonna be a _doozy_


	7. For Want of A Nail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh, sweet babby, things are gettin' a lil' out of hand here hun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait.... if I'm over here, and you're holding the gun.... _then whO'S dRIviNG THE ShIP ???_  
>  ヾ( ⊙д⊙ ;)ﾉ !!!!?

Ashley couldn't really remember what she'd said to Chris upon regaining consciousness, she just remembered her head feeling too heavy for her shoulders to hold and how Chris was shouting from across the table how he was gonna murder... _something_... All she really knew for sure was her face and the whole rest of her head hurt like a mother. And she couldn't move her arms, or stand up, and there was a really bright light up above them when her head fell back with the weight of itself, and...

Her eyes had been glossy with the pain and disorientation that came with waking up after being knocked out like she had been, but they cleared up hella fucking quick as those saws came into focus, dangling just a few feet out of what would've been arms reach if her arms could have reached anywhere at all. They couldn't, and that was a fact of the situation that she only came to terms with when she began to panic and struggle and yank at her wrists in a vain attempt to get them free.

' _This isn't real-_ ' Not-Ashley cried in that same bullying way, though Ash found it difficult to say she was over-exaggerating the crippling fear she'd felt staring up at the contraption hanging above their heads. ' _It can't be real!_ ' Not unless the spirit of Jigsaw himself had come back from the grave (and out of the television) just to act on a personal vendetta he held against them in particular. And apparently he had, because it _could_ be real and it _was_.

All she could do was sit there and freak out and cry and scream because she _knew_. She'd already been through it once and the worst ten minutes she'd ever experienced flashed through her mind and she _knew_ they weren't getting out of it this time. This 'murdering piece of shit', as Chris had so aptly named him, had already caught and let her go once tonight; he wasn't going to do it again. But like Chris had done before- had been doing since all of this shit had started, he called Ash's name until he got her attention and made her focus on him, even if he couldn't reach over and grab her to make her. Her breathing had already gone ragged and she choked on the tears but she quieted just enough to listen.

She left it out for the sheriff and her long-lost potential not-brother over there, but in her head Ash went over the whole conversation from before that voice had interjected over the intercom again, however brief it may have been. Her eyes remained on the floor where they'd been since she mentioned the stabbing, and her face was sullen, but still she could feel her cheeks warm up and it wasn't because of any tears (at least not at first), or because she was pressing and squeezing them to keep any at bay. It'd made her so happy in spite of the situation to hear that, no matter just _how_ shitty their night had been, and even though their last hours may have been spent chasing ghosts and running from a killer and being knocked the Hell out (twice), Chris had still been glad because he'd gotten to spend it with _her_. Sheriff Cline's brows knit in confusion at the sight of a smile, but her mom eyes weren't so concerned this time as they were confused because she hadn't gotten to hear Ashley's repeating Chris's words to herself again and again. Last thing she'd actually said out loud had been that they were strapped in to a one way ride to certain death and someone was gonna get shot, and that certainly wasn't something ~~most~~ people would smile about. Certainly not a young girl with enough guilt and anxiety on her shoulders to weigh down a damn elephant.

Ashley couldn't help it though. She'd been waiting so long to tell Chris what she should have told him two months into sophomore year when they were sitting together in the library after school, that to hear him say that he'd wanted all of those study dates to have been a little less 'study' and a lot more 'date' since that day they'd been stuck in the doorway to Beth's room together, watching her and Josh shove each other and dance to the Time Warp and had their first _'actual'_ conversation... Even sitting across that table from him as he held a gun in his hand she'd choked up a smile when he scolded himself for not saying anything. For not realizing that staring more at a picture of them in his phone every day than he stared at new apps was most likely a sign from the damn universe telling him, 'hey numb nuts you should probably just fucking say something' (a particular voice in his head that had always been Josh's).

She'd tried as well to tell him what she'd been meaning to tell him, but had been cut off by the blades above their heads screeching to life and was unable to get those words out; the last few words that _needed_ to be said if they were gonna die, that she'd been avoiding just like he had for fear it might have ruined the relationship they had already. The one that she never in a million years had wanted to lose. This fucking Onion Nerd and his fucking stupid ass phone and stupid ass _face_... She felt them teasing at her lips, over the taste of iron and salt, and as she thought back now she couldn't remember if she'd actually managed to get them out or not. Her lips had formed the words she was sure, small and broken and probably more quiet than she would have liked; a belated 'I love you', soft but no less meaningful that'd only been drowned out by the metallic shriek of oncoming slaughter. His eyes shot up to the ceiling and away from her at the sound and her smile was gone and she was screaming- she was scared. Her body couldn't take this and her mind sure as Hell couldn't; not again. Not for the second time. Not after watching Josh fall into two pieces in the shed. Her chest went from the overjoyed and fast-paced, yet still steady beat with their _way_ overdue conversation, to thrumming like a hummingbird's so immediately that she was sure it had just up and quit on her for a good minute there at least. Chris was trying to talk to her again; trying to calm her down and get her to look at him again though he couldn't grab her like he had before and keep them both from falling into their respective pits of blackness and death that still hungered after them, telling her not to be scared and that he'd _get her out of this,_ in a voice just calm enough to mask the pure terror he felt, just to get her to listen.

"The whole time he was just trying to make _me_ feel better. He was freaking out just as much but he didn't want _me_ to be scared." Her lips began to tremble finally, and she tried to hold it up but that smile fought and lost as she saw again in her head how Chris's trying to keep her calm was cut short and drowned out by the voice crackling out through the speakers like a badly-tuned radio. How it told them that they were going to get to go through all of the fun of the shed once more.

She watched Chris's eyes move from the pistol, to her, and back again. No... no no no, not again. She didn't want to see it again- _'couldn't'_ see it again. Too much blood- there was too much blood, she couldn't...

Her mind had gotten too far ahead of her by then though. Her active imagination painting the picture all in red before it could even get the chance to really happen. No matter how much she hadn't wanted to see it and even though it never came to light in reality, she still got to watch. Got to see _every single speck_ of detail, feel _every_ drop of blood that might have hit her... Her eyes shot up to the sheriff across the table - to the wall behind her. Still standing beside the mirror that wasn't a mirror was the kid who wasn't her brother. He hadn't said a word but he was still there, but she hadn't looked to reassure herself that the source of her amusement hadn't run off. She looked to him and searched with near-frantic eyes to find the gun she remembered seeing at his hip.

But it wasn't there. It wasn't in his hand and it wasn't on the table or anywhere close by. She wondered if it had ever been there at all or if it had just been the paranoia and her fragile mental state still trying to convince her that she wasn't safe after they'd only just been picked up. Trying to keep her in defense mode.

Whatever it was, she didn't care. The gun was gone, and she didn't want to see it again. She was still watching him though, as her memories found again where she'd parked the story, as if he might just produce the firearm out of thin air and it might just get aimed her way.

"He didn't even hesitate..." Not to choose between them, no. Chris had pressed the barrel to his jaw before he had a chance to question the decision, but he stopped. He hesitated. Like Ash had said before, he couldn't make decisions like this when put under the pressure of such a time constraint. The saw blades were tearing down towards them at such an agonizing pace and his mind couldn't decide whether it wanted him to breathe or think, because both at the same time weren't plausible, not right now. Shooting yourself isn't exactly the easiest thing to do on a _'normal'_ day. This was just fucking overkill.

"I told him to shoot me. I didn't want to die, I'm only eighteen I wasn't ready to die. I was scared." Eighteen, not forty. No twenty-year nap; no chalking things up to a midlife crisis. She clutched the cuffs of Matt's jacket and wrapped her arms around herself like they'd been before. "But I- I didn't want him to die either. He's my best friend- my best friend in the whole _world_. And then after we finally got to talk, after we finally got to say everything..." Granted, it'd taken being strapped to chairs and about to be slaughtered for the second time in the span of a few hours for it to finally get out. First date really wasn't going too swell. "It wasn't _fair_. I just... I didn't want us to die. And then Chris just- he just..." She raised her finger like the handgun and pushed it to her neck, and though nothing had happened she was crying again, "He- he kept saying he was sorry and I... I tried to get him to stop, but then he just... He just shot it and I... I- I thought he was dead. I thought he was dead because th- the lights went out and I couldn't _see anything._ "

It was as if the trigger of the gun had been connected to a switch somewhere because as soon as Chris pulled it and she heard the 'bang', they were left in immediate darkness. And it was quiet. It was deathly quiet and there was a ringing in her ears and her temples were _pounding_ , so much so that she could hardly open her eyes again. And even when she had it was too dark to see anything, even her knees.

' _He's dead._ ' Not-Ashley was staring at her and she wasn't smiling but she looked like she wanted to. She was so expressive that it was difficult to believe that her eyes were just tiny black gateways to Hell. ' _He's so fucking dead._ '

But she was wrong, because as the ringing cleared she heard it; she heard Chris across the table - still breathing. They were quick, short breaths as he tried to figure out what the fuck had happened, but he was _breathing_ and that was what mattered.

There was this moment though- this _horrifying_ moment that she remembered that had kept her from feeling any kind of relief upon hearing his shuddering breaths. Because a morbid thought took over her mind and, though she was disappointed that her tormenting hadn't gotten much of a reaction this time, her not-self was still willing and ready to try try again, ' _What if he missed?_ '

Ash had been caught wondering if, when the lights came on, he'd be sitting there with half of his face missing but still alive and in immeasurable pain. And she wanted to ask if he was okay but all that came out was a meek, shaking, squeak of her voice when she called his name. It was hardly audible even to him, and she was _begging_ for a response that said he wasn't dead or half dead or anything above slightly bruised from being knocked the Hell out. Twice.

And then through the breathing came his muttering and that fear sunk so quick away from her pounding heart, and he was stuttering out half-words that she didn't even care to translate because all that mattered to her was that he was _alive_. ' _I-I'm okay._ ' The demon's face in the mirror scrunched up, she looked sour about repeating Chris's words. It left a bad taste in her mouth, but Ashley had wanted to hear them and for some reason she'd complied. ' _I'm st... I'm still here..._ ' He could barely comprehend what'd happened let alone translate it into coherent words as he tried to calm his own breathing and stared at the gun in the darkness. She had burst into those audible sobs at the sound of his voice though and could hardly hear him over herself at first anyways.

It jammed. It must've jammed, that's what he'd said. That's what they both suspected. The shot had still rang out though. If it'd jammed it wouldn't have temporarily deafened them like it had. That's how it worked in the movies at least, in all those terrible action flicks they watched on Friday nights. She'd never so much as held a gun before. Chris had though, he'd shot them off before with Josh so he probably knew a lot more about them than what she learned from movies, right?

The gun didn't jam, the bullets just hadn't been real.

"Fake..." She murmured, "It was all... all fake. Just like Josh in the shed. There weren't any bullets in the gun, they were blanks." She sniffled a few times when the relief of having gotten through this bit washed over her, letting out a pent-up breath in the form of a congested sigh and pulling Matt's sleeve over her eyes to wipe away the tears since she was running out of dry glove.

"Blanks? Those can still kill you..." Ashley was almost as shocked at hearing her potential not-brother against the wall speak as she had been at hearing her own not-self whisper to her for the first time, and she lowered her arm quickly to look at him, not totally convinced he wasn't a mute until she saw his lips moving. Not-mom had those eyes on him as soon as she'd heard it as well and Ash wondered what kind of look he was getting. Momitude, it seemed, still got to him just as it was getting to her and probably had gotten to all of those hundreds of people she was _'sure'_ the sheriff had gotten to confess to murder, even if all they'd done was break into a car. He just about shut right up aside from a few stuttering half-words, having lost his train of thought because of whatever look he was getting, and Ashley honestly couldn't have been more curious because he looked more uncomfortable with not-mom staring him down with her mom eyes than he did with his not-sister staring him down with her glass eyes. "I-I mean... close-range. They can still kill, if..." He trailed off and didn't finish, letting a finger-pistol of his own fall from his neck where she was sure he'd been trying to demonstrate, playing it off as a sudden loss of voice as he coughed and leaned back against the wall and looked anywhere but at that face that reminded him too much of getting in trouble with his own mother as a kid. Ash understood his pain; those mom eyes were intimidating as _fuck_. She sent him silent props for trying, though. 'A' for effort, not-brother.

Big boss mom watched him for a moment more until he was really starting to sweat, but she let out a sigh and when she turned back to Ashley she was honestly surprised because there wasn't a look of murderous intent there - didn't even look like there were the remnants of one that'd just faded away, she just kind of huffed and was back to looking at her little notepad again. _Damn_ , this woman was _good_. She wondered briefly if not-mom's potential kids had it as rough as her not-bro had just gotten it, if they existed, and feared for a brief moment that not-mom was less of the 'pancakes in the morning' kind of mom than she'd hoped. She also kind of hoped for the sake of those potential kids that their potential dad was a little more like her own, so maybe they'd have at least one maybe-parent that was lenient.

"He's right." Ash sat straight when suddenly not-mom was calling attention again, "Blanks _can_ kill. Especially at that close a range. You said it still fired though so I'm not sure what it was. If we can recover the gun we'll probably find out. I don't think I have to tell you how lucky you were that they weren't real."

' _What if they had been, though?_ ' Looked like _'someone'_ found their voice again. ' _If those_ had _been real bullets..._ '

Yes, there was that scenario. But it'd just been established by these two _obviously_ -professionals that they ' _couldn't_ ' have been. Not-Ash looked a little ticked to see that her 'what if's weren't getting to her counterpart like she'd hoped they would, and her stone-face twisted up with that annoyance. What a piss-baby.

Ashley ignored her and her eyes flicked back to the sheriff and she hummed her agreement quietly. More work for the hum-interpreter over there, though he was still trying to look anywhere but at them.

"Josh, he uh... he wanted to see..." She began again when not-mom grabbed her attention again after it'd drifted back up to the one against the wall, and she struggled at first to find where she'd left off. "Wanted to see who Chris would pick. He'd already saved me once, but Josh had to keep pushing... I don't even know why, they were best friends, I don't know why he wanted to make him choose like that. He hadn't ever done anything to him. Was only ever there for him." Just like how not-Ash had found her voice again, her legs finally found their muse, and as her sniffles cleared up they were bouncing again. To the Cell Block Tango this time, which was ironic but in a better way than might have been intended. Last time she'd watched Chicago it had been with Sam and the twins, and that wasn't a bad memory. Not-Ash really _must_ have been bitter right now.

There was this sudden interrupting crash behind Ashley just before the lights came back on and she could finally see Chris's face in one piece, and his eyes shot up when the doorway behind her was forced open and two figures just about fell through and right onto the ground, bringing in with them a blinding stream of light. But as the light above their head finally flickered back to life as well Ashley paid them no mind. Her focus was instead on the one approaching from behind Chris, that same face with no eyes and the rubber teeth that had come at her in the dark just before. She remembered how her wrists, still chafed and burning from earlier, cried out at first but went numb just as quick as she yanked them hard to get out of her restraints, screaming at the Psycho to stay back, to stay away.

The gun may have been empty, may have jammed- whatever, but when he saw what she was staring at Chris's eyes jerked back to that man coming at them and so did the gun, and he aimed and shot. Even though nothing fired from the barrel it still sounded and felt as if there were bullets in it, but eventually that ran out as well and all that was left were those audible clicks. The man in the mask was still standing; a hole in his shoulder from Ashley's stabbing him but otherwise unscathed. He mocked the attempts, and when he took off his mask she understood why the voice had been so familiar. Understood why the saw had gone towards Josh in the shed though Chris hadn't been able to pick between them. Because it'd all been a set-up, and he hadn't really died. Josh was standing there with that same familiar _shit-eating_ grin on his face, laughing because they'd all gotten his name! _All guessed it right!_ Ashley's heart was still pounding at a million miles a minute and she stared in frozen shock at him as he spoke, unable to hear Sam asking if she was alright when she came to untie her and Mike did the same for Chris.

' _No, he's dead._ '

But he was standing _right there._

' _He died. He died, I'm covered in his blood because he was_  dead.' Not-Ash was trying to gain back some of her dignity with this, ' _Another ghost. Has to be another ghost- Chris was wrong, they exist and Josh is dead-_ '

Yet there he was, completely solid and more full of color than he'd been in a year. He was talking and grinning and sounding so damn _pleased_ about _all of it_. He was just _ripe_ for the punching.

Mike grew sick of it. He grew sick of it _real_ quick. The laughing, the ' _games_ '... none of it was funny. This wasn't a prank this was _traumatizing_ , and as soon as she was free Ashley grabbed Sam's hand and squeezed it and wasn't letting it go. Sam didn't seem mind because she squeezed right back and assured her quietly that she was alright and there was nothing to be afraid of now. Hard to believe, sure, but Ash didn't dare try and prove her otherwise. For now, Mike was left to do all of the talking needed. Neither Ash nor Chris had realized until later that he was two fingers short of a whole person by then.

And Josh admitted to everything.

The way he spoke was like it really was just all a prank, equal in his own mind to what they'd done to Hannah last year (with interest), and even caught on tape just the same, though anyone else could have told just how different it was. But not Josh... the way he spoke, there wasn't just the joy and the high of having ' _gotten_ ' them all in his words; he wasn't right. If everything up until then hadn't been clue enough to that as it was.

Mike called him crazy (in his own words), yet in spite of it all- in spite of _everything_ he'd done to he and Ashley that night, Chris was still the one to shoot him down. He was off his meds, that's what he'd said. That he was _sick_. And the look on his face when Ashley turned her eyes on the one across the table... he wasn't mad. Maybe she hadn't expected him to be absolutely fucking livid, but he wasn't even the _least bit_ pissed. He _'understood'_. And that look was mirrored on Sam's face as well.

Ashley wanted to not be mad, too. Wanted to be able to forgive him for everything as well and say that everything would be fine, because she knew how he was just as they did. Knew that even before Hannah and Beth he'd been unstable without help, and how all of those medications he took were what kept him from going off like he had. She wanted to forgive him like they could because it really and truly _wasn't his fault_. But she couldn't. She was too shook up; too scared to the point where she'd have stood behind Sam if she thought her trembling legs could hold her. But where she had at least tried to find some part of her that was coping well enough with what had just happened to understand, Mike was only becoming more angry as Josh went on and on. As he told them about all the little bits and pieces of his plan and how they'd gone so _right_ and how she and Chris and Sam had fallen for it all just so _perfectly_. The shed, the ghost, the bogus clues and fictitious psycho...

But not Jess.

Mike's words, fueled with the hate for Josh and the fear and regret of not being able to save Jess, filled her head. She heard them over and over again, bounding around endlessly as if they were inexhaustible. Ashley's racing heart went from a hummingbird's pace down to nothing when he said that she was dead. It came from absolutely nowhere for both she and Chris and they were staring at him, eyes wide from the shock. They'd just been put through their own night of Hell but they hadn't been the only ones?

She wanted to ask him what he meant; Jess wasn't _dead_. _She couldn't be dead._ She had _just_ seen her a couple of hours ago, safe with the rest of them in the lodge; could still feel that kiss on her cheek that she'd gotten - she _couldn't_ be dead. But she could hardly come to terms with knowing Josh had been behind everything that'd happened tonight and was unable to speak up for herself, much less ask him for details on what'd happened. Even if she could have though she wasn't given the chance, and while Josh looked just about as confused as she and Chris at the mention of Jess, Mike spared no sympathy for his instability and stalked right around the table with that gun in his hand and bashed him in the face with its grip, not unlike Josh had done to Ash earlier. She _had_ stabbed him, though.

She jumped from the start, as well as from hearing Mike shout like he had. Anger made her nervous; it always had no matter who it came from or where it was aimed, and so it just added to her anxiety and the hand that wasn't gripping Sam's had a fistful of her jacket; extra security to make sure she wasn't leaving her. She hadn't even realized until a couple of surprisingly warm fingers were wiping tears and some of the blood from her face that she hadn't stopped crying yet, had only stopped making any noise out of some instinct to just not be heard or noticed or drawn into the shouting and the anger. She'd just been stuck _staring_.

Chris had jumped too, but unlike Ashley who had pressed herself back away from the commotion he was up and checking on Josh just as soon as he'd gone down, arguing with Mike that he hadn't needed to club him like that. The fact that he could still defend Josh at all after everything he'd done both amazed and bothered her - he'd made him shoot himself, for fuck's sake - but she couldn't call him out on it; couldn't say he was nuts and that he should just leave him. So she just watched, as he lifted his head off of the cold concrete and made sure he hadn't slammed it too hard and wouldn't wake up concussive.

Mike it seemed though was more miffed than her, and he _could_ call him out on it, telling him he should just leave the 'murdering son of a bitch' there. That bit was what spurred Chris to actually get angry, and he snapped back at Michael that time, saying just as he'd said before; Josh _must've_ gone off his meds. They were what kept him calm and rational instead of like this, and helped him to still be, well... 'him'. And this _definitely_ wasn't _him_.

Sam was only able to agree. Josh had terrified her earlier, chasing her around with a needle, making her fear for her life; only losing her when she managed to slip into that old elevator shaft and hold her breath until he went away. But she knew just as well as Chris that he wouldn't have done this if he truly could have understood just what he was doing. She'd stuck far too close to him in the past year to think otherwise, but she didn't argue when both of the boys agreed that tying him up before he regained consciousness was probably a good idea. Because just sticking a bottle of pills in his face and making him take them like Mike had suggested at first wasn't going to be some sort of instant fix. No... Mike was smarter than that, but rationality had long since given way to anger. There wasn't any 'just add drugs for quick and delicious, perfectly sane friends!' Josh, unfortunately, wasn't some kind of muffin mix.

So the boys hefted him up and lugged him out of wherever the hell they were, tracing Ashley and Chris's footsteps back the way they'd come considering they didn't want to head through the tunnel to the sanatorium that Mike had come through or crawl through any vents like Sam, and all the while as they found their way out of the decaying ruins of the old hotel and back upstairs Sam explained to them just what she'd found before running into Mike. She told them that Chris had been right; Josh _had_ stopped medicating, according to the texts on his phone. That he'd been having trouble with doctors and different treatments since way before _any_ of this- way before even the girl's went missing, though that much Chris had known already. The news was still shaking though, and as the boys bickered about it and Mike continued on calling Josh a basket case only to be scolded again by Sam, Ashley had been quiet. She trailed at the back, still clutching Sam's hand like a lifeline in both of her own and keeping a watchful eye on Josh, only drawing attention when she forgot to watch her feet instead and tripped over them once or twice. She was reluctant to let go even when they were back upstairs, safe and sound thinking that the nightmare was over, and Josh was tossed onto the sofa rather harshly by Mike who ran off to find some rope or cable or anything they could tie him up with.

"So Michael was able to subdue him?"

It'd been a while since the sheriff's voice had managed to actually catch Ashley off guard, but she found that her words jerked her right out of the immersion of her memories sucking her in; pulling her right back up into the mountains with them. Her eyes were glossy again though it wasn't from tears this time. She had just, in her own head, been staring at Mike and Chris yelling at each other in the basement. First person and everything like she was reliving it all. "Yeah," She did manage, after the dust from the basement that lingered in her mind cleared up enough, "for a little bit..."

"A little bit?"

"Chris went to get him later, but he never brought him back... I didn't see him anymore- _still_ haven't seen him... Mike went to find him later- way later, to get the key for the cable car so we could leave. He didn't bring him back either."

' _But Josh had only been one tip of the iceberg._ ' Not-Ashley added on for her, all the snarky goodness of that nutcase that Ashley didn't want to be seen as wrapped up in one single little Hellian who couldn't give two shits. Ash couldn't find it in her to look up again though from the darkness below the table, because she knew what part of the story came next. The part where the ghosts stopped existing and the real monsters started. ' _There was still a whole damn mountain of ice under the surface. And we were the fucking Titanic._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"I'll never let go-!_  
> ...of Sam's fucking hand."
> 
> -Ashley (probably)


	8. A-Tisket, A-Tasket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunger inspires bravery.  
> Bravery insists you eat your demons ?
> 
> It's all quite complicated (tho prolly not rly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere in the station, not-brother sneezes. He suddenly wants to buy twenty bucks worth of snacks and ice cream but doesn't know why.
> 
> It's to save your life, friend. That's why. Listen to ur sneezes, child.

It was hardly an hour later that they realized that they weren't the crew that'd found out about the iceberg first; they were the poor _saps_ that hadn't learned anything until the hull was punctured and they were going down and it was a little too late to abandon ship.

Sometime around four- four-fifteen was when Josh had woken up and the boys herded him out to the shed, though not without arguing with Sam about it first considering the weather and how they could have just stuck him in a room upstairs. Mike had been dead set on getting him out of the lodge though and away from everyone else, so for once mom-of-the-friend-group mom wasn't going to win. So she sat and she huffed, annoyed and angry at first, but then her head fell into her hands when the boys were gone and things got quiet and she started to think. Ashley had put a hand on her shoulders and rubbed her back idly when she hunched forward and began murmuring, wondering aloud just what the Hell had happened to make him fall so hard and so fast without _'any'_ of them noticing. But she and Chris had spent more time with him than any of the rest of them, so of course Ashley didn't know so she had no answers to give, and honestly she listened but her mind was still caught up on Jess.

Josh had sent her and Mike out, and as far as she could tell had spent every moment of his time afterwards terrorizing she and Chris, and Sam as well when he wasn't with them. The guest cabin was way too far for him to go running back and forth, Chris had said it while hashing it out with Mike on the way upstairs. But if that were true then _what had happened?_

' _She ate her._ '

Ashley grimaced and her teeth pressed hard into each other. She hadn't thought that until later, but it _had_ crossed her mind. She hated that her not-self had full access to every single little thing.

' _Hannah ate her._ '

The words sent a shiver through her and for the second time tonight she debated drawing her arms into the spacious warmth of Matt's letterman to hug herself and cocoon a little. It'd only make her more sleepy than she already was, she assumed, and honestly just thinking about it made her eyelids feel heavier. She sighed away that grimace quietly and let them close, just for a moment. Just for long enough to wipe not-Ash's words from her mind. They might have been true, but they didn't know that. They hadn't found Jess, she could still be out there. Still wandering around waiting to be found and when she was they'd bring her here and Ash could hug her again and kiss her cheek and not let go until they were a hundred miles away from this place.

The blackness behind her lids was more comforting than she'd imagined it would be, and she lingered for a little longer, just enjoying the quiet for a time as neither not-mom nor potential not-brother bothered to interrupt. She could hear him speak up then after those glassy eyes were shut and not on him, in the quietest of voices, whispering something to not-mom, she assumed. And then there were footsteps and the creak of the door and when she opened her eyes he was gone.

He'd found that break finally, and suddenly the world felt a little more empty. Though, for Ash, this tiny dim room was all her world consisted of after she'd been lead through the station with a hand on her back and the door had shut behind her the first time. It didn't bother her because it meant there was less to think about and less to be concerned with when she stood back and looked at the whole picture, and it wasn't too shocking that the world would feel kind of empty when there had only been three people in it. She wasn't counting not-Ashley; she wasn't a person in any sense of the word.

The rhythmic ticking of a pen tapping the paper of that little notepad got Ash's increasingly-dreary attention back on the sheriff. She pulled one arm into the jacket.

"You're tired."

' _Get a dog if you're eyesight's too bad to see that._ '

Ashley quickly shushed her not-self and shook her head, a gesture that not-mom seemed to take as a 'no' from her, and she sighed at the obvious denial and sat back and lifted that little notepad again to look at it.

There went the other arm. Ash was much warmer now. Her hands were ice cold but she figured they'd warm up, and shivered violently when she pulled up the sleeves of her sweater in hopes that her arms would be warm enough to do the job.

"From what you've said, it's nearly four-thirty and we picked you up just after seven. We're almost done." Not-mom's voice wasn't helping the armless-wonder to stay awake, but she was still grateful to hear that they might be finished soon. Yet, at the same time it was hard to believe that the span of time between learning that monsters were real and losing the remaining friends she had to lose had only been 'two hours'. It felt impossible. Felt like it'd taken two _years_.

Though physically it did jack shit for her, metaphorically Ash was filled with what could have been determination to finish this up so she could find a bed somewhere and finally shut down. Maybe even a couch. She'd settle for a couch. Or even the chair she sat in now. Hell, the frosty tile under her feet was looking more and more inviting by the minute. She had to get through this quick before that determination wore off and a severe lack of sugar and will to go on made her crash.

She missed her not-brother already and wished he'd come back, and maybe bring her a candy bar because that's what not-brothers who loved their not-sisters did, right? She remembered how Jess would always play the 'if you love me...' card with her little brothers and most of the time they couldn't say no.

Maybe she'd try it when he came back in the room if he didn't bring any snacks. The thought of finishing off that bottle of water still made her stomach lurch in protest, but fries and a chocolate shake sure didn't.

That determination might not have been wearing off but it was morphing into hunger pretty damn quick, so Ash tried not to think of the vending machines she was sure were hiding somewhere in this damn place. Her toes had gone after the McDonald's jingle at first but that was far too short to last, so they searched out another song that was even remotely related to food. It definitely wasn't helping. She remembered that Shirley Temple commercial and the song about animal crackers, the one that she would walk into the kitchen and catch her dad singing sometimes while he cooked.

Ash didn't get any animal crackers though, and hardly got a chance to brainstorm any kind of reply to give to Sam either before they heard the side door open and she looked over the back of the couch to see Chris. He had his eyes on his boots as if to make sure he'd knocked all the snow off of them, but when his gaze found hers and she saw that dejected look on his face she knew that things probably hadn't gone too well. It wasn't surprising; Josh had fallen off the deep end and probably hadn't drifted towards the 'sane' part of the scale any on the trip out to the shed, and Mike was being pretty harsh even before they'd left the lodge. Speaking of which, he told them as he came and sat that Mike had opted for standing guard over Josh until they could call the police in the morning and get off that damn mountain altogether. They knew the weekend wasn't going to be easy, but this was far outside the range of what they could have ever expected.

He came and sat heavy in the corner of the sectional, breathing out all of the stress and heart-stopping fear of the night that his lungs had clung onto, and once it was gone he tried to breathe easier and let his head fall back so he could stare up at the chandelier far above. Ashley found she was finally calming down about Josh now after her silent one-sided conversation with Sam. And as she watched Chris watch the ceiling, counting the dust particles that'd collected on his glasses instead of checking his phone (which was surprising), she couldn't help but to feel glad that he didn't look as though he even remotely wanted to murder Josh's face off anymore. Without letting her hand fall away from Sam's back, she reached over and took his with her free one, not because of what he'd told her earlier but just because she wanted to hold onto the both of them. Make sure that they were there and maybe reassure them both of that as well. They were alive, the scare was over, and they could relax and in the morning they could go home.

His fingers wrapped around hers and she felt his thumb run over her knuckles; his hand was so warm even after being out in the cold just a few minutes before. She went back to rubbing Sam's back for her. It was a well-deserved moment of silence for all of them and none of them wanted to break it.

But, of course, as it went, they weren't the only ones apparently having a shitty night. Because after _'four hours'_ of having dropped off the map, all of their heads shot up when that shrill scream echoed through the air and right through the walls of the lodge. It was Emily, and before any of them had hardly gotten the chance to even stand she was on the front porch, slamming her fists against the door and panicking to get it open, begging for them to let her in.

Ashley had seen her broken and crying before; they'd been friends since she'd met her through Sam and Jess in sixth grade, she'd seen her go through all her different moods in all of their intensities, but panic to such a degree... This had been a new one. As soon as Chris had the door open Emily collapsed inside and hit the rug hard, she and Sam had tried to catch her but she hardly noticed they were there at all as she scrambled clumsily back as far from the door as she could, practically screaming at Chris to shut it again. He'd frozen up and looked out of it to see what she was trying so desperately to get away from, but saw nothing before she was screaming at him again and resorting to name-calling. The girls got a hold of her though before she could back into the wall, and pulled her to her feet to shepherd her into the other room only to have her stumble away from them as well as she could, accepting little help until she was finally sitting. And at that point she wouldn't let go of either of their hands. She had a large cut on her forehead that was still somewhat fresh but had stopped bleeding for now, her make-up was running all down her cheeks, her clothes - _Emily's_ clothes - were tattered and filthy for once in her life, and she'd been limping because the gash in her leg was bigger than the one on her face. She looked more like hell than all the rest of them, save _maybe_ Michael; covered in snow and dirt and, least surprisingly, blood. And something like... rust was caught in the fur cuffs of her coat?

But though she was worried and squeezing her hand and brushing her hair out of her face, asking if she was okay, all that Ashley could think was-

' _Where's Matt?_ ' Not-Ashley was on the ball now, after hopping off the Bitter Train from Liar-ville over there.

They'd been together last she'd seen them, and if there was something out there... He'd _never_ have left her. She was a bitch, but he wouldn't have. Yet here she was, alone and beat to shit and obviously terrified of _'something'_ coming after her. But there was no Matt.

' _It got Jess, it must've gotten Matt too. Hannah must've gotten him. She already ate Jess-_ '

Ashley had tugged the collar of the letterman up over her nose and mouth to keep them warm, and so as that grimace turned to a damning glare her words were muffled and too quiet for not-mom to hear. "You don't shut up and _'I'm'_ going to eat _'you'_." She was 'this' close to doing it too; to getting up and dragging her chair over there to that not-mirror and just _smashing_ it. Her better judgment though said she should just stay put (not to mention she had the sneaking suspicion that it was bullet-proof and just straight-up WWE'ing it wasn't gonna work), and she debated going from just being the armless wonder to full on potato-mode and tucking her legs up into that letterman with the rest of her. There was plenty room enough for them, after all. Tempting.

Not-mom raised a brow in question, and her lips fell open to ask what she said, but Ash was quick to reply before she could even come up with the words. "Nothing. Sorry..." She apologized again. She felt kind of bad that she wasn't able to share not-Ashley's existence with her. Sheriff Cline seemed like the kind of not-mom that was good to tell secrets to. Ashley debated if maybe she'd accept her not-daughter after learning she was prone to the occasional episode of quite vivid, wanting-to-eat-her-soul hallucinations. Maybe they could make pancakes after.

But she decided she'd keep it to herself.

The apology though she was happy to give, and in fact she gave another when she thought about it again. Not-mom deserved all the apologies she could get, having to deal with her and all. She decided that she'd apologize to her dad soon as she saw him, too. She was pretty sure she hadn't done anything to him but exist, and was sure that he wouldn't know what it could possibly be for, she just wanted to give him one. It woke her up a little bit knowing that she'd be able to call him soon.

She hit the clicker on her metaphorical car keys to find her metaphorical story car in the metaphorical parking lot that was her memory.

Ash tried to ask if maybe Emily and Matt had split up or something, though couldn't think of a reason why (her not-self was still sure he'd been eaten), but Emily didn't seem to have heard and she wasn't mentioning him. She was too panicked; could only rave about some... some 'monster' chasing after her. That it was out there still, in the snow, trying to get her. But they'd caught Josh by then. Yet, when Sam so much as tried to explain that it was him and that there was nothing to be scared of anymore, Emily could only shake her head, on the verge of tears now that she was breathing and had a moment for them, insisting that it wasn't him. That they didn't understand. Even if he did look like death on a daily basis when he didn't sleep, there was no mistaking that thing for Josh.

It wasn't human. She knew that; had gotten too up close and personal a look to fuck up that fact for them.

"Wait, so... Emily was the first to mention that there was something else on the mountain with you?" Hallelujah, a break-through. Because instead of that doubt and disbelief there was this look of 'hold the fuck up' in the sheriff's eyes, and she held up a hand as if to physically stop Ashley from talking from across the table, cutting her off.

' _Yeah, that's right, lady._ ' Not-Ashley interjected, because even she seemed relieved.

It wasn't just her. No, this wendigo hadn't been some kind of pipe dream, it had been a _team_ effort.

Ashley even managed to huff out a laugh for her as her own mind sang praise to Jesus for that confused tone. Maybe she hadn't totally convinced her of the truth yet, but skepticism was a start. It was a whole hell of a lot more than the hum of agreement(?) she'd gotten upon first mentioning it that had just been used to pacify her until they could get her to the interrogation room. They'd probably all called her delusional when she was off of their hands, maybe even a killer because she was alive and the others weren't. She couldn't be mad at their probable assumptions though considering the ridiculous amount of blood soaking her clothes. Being mad took too much energy that she didn't have. Maybe when not-bro brought her those snacks she could be mad.

Doubtful.

"She fell into the mines." She explained in a soft, yet still haughty way because 'fuck yes she might believe me'. "The fire tower collapsed and she got stuck down there with it. That's where it lived... Or, well, that's what Sam said. That's where it went when the sun was out and why we didn't see it last year. Em fell into the mines just like Hannah and Beth, only she was able to get out. She was the one who had to deal with it first." The girls... Em had mentioned them too. At the sound of their names any confidence in Ashley's tone was gone again and her lips pressed flat. Not-Ash had brought Hannah up, but actually hearing she and Beth's names out loud- actually saying them herself... It was different.

"She said she found Beth..." That got not-mom sitting straight again, and her lips parted as if she were going to question it because this was certainly news to them. She immediately assumed of course that 'alive' was what she'd meant, but that hope that one of the missing Washington girls had survived in the cold mines for a year, alone and starving, was both thrown out by her own rationalization as well as when Ash cut her off again, "Her... her head, at least. She said she thought they fell down there, off a cliff she and Matt found cause there was, like, half a sign at the top or... something. I don't know, I stopped listening for the most part after the whole 'head' thing. I didn't want to think about it." Nobody would have wanted to think about it. She'd been stuck to Hannah and Beth since middle school, she wanted to think about the sleepovers and the movies; being picked at for her crush on Chris and then gushing over guys in magazines; trying to keep up with them when Sam made them go jogging... She didn't want to think about Beth's rotting face.

Ashley shivered and turned her head, trying to push the sickening image that'd flashed into her mind out of it before she could vomit. Stuff of nightmares...

But then like it'd been multiple times through the night already, Chris's voice was in her head. He asked about Matt like she couldn't because she'd stopped trying to listen, and her head shot up again to the woman across from her. "You guys are gonna keep looking for everyone, right?" Like every time she'd asked if they'd been found before, her words came out quick and pleading, "For Jess and Josh and Matt, right? Em said... she said Matt tried to help her but he got thrown off the tower when it dropped, when they were way, way down in the mine. She said she thought he might've died, but you're still gonna look, right?"

Sheriff Cline had gone back to relaxing in her chair when her hopes about the girls were shot, but Ash got an answer in the form of a nod at least, and that was all she cared about right now. "We didn't know how extensive those mines were last year when the Washington twins went missing, but we do now. We'll keep looking as long as we're able."

"You're gonna look where the tower fell?" She didn't care if there were any wendigo left.

"Yes, we'll look where the tower fell. And anywhere we're able to reach." Probably gonna lose a guy or two if there _are_ any wendigo left.

That was a relief, though not nearly as much of one as either of them may have hoped. It was something, though. Some news to cling to and listen out for in the coming days. But those days would turn to weeks would turn to two months before the search would be called off.

But it seemed enough to allay her worries for now, and Ash let out a steady breath and leaned back into her own chair again and it was still cold. She wanted to get her hopes up even though she knew she shouldn't. But the sheriff wasn't going to let her have a moment to get used to the chill before she was talking again and getting her to fidget and worry all over again just by asking what happened next.

"She said she got a hold of you guys before the tower fell. And then Mike came in 'cause he heard her screaming earlier." He had asked about Matt too, but only briefly and Ash was pretty sure it went unnoticed by everyone but her. Maybe Chris too, but she was pretty sure Sam hadn't heard and was just grateful to be able to feel her fingers again when Emily let go of them to hug Mike. Whatever fun she'd gotten into down in the mines, it sure had gotten her over her fear of dirt, because he was _filthy_. Dirt, blood, oil (maybe?); you name it he wore it, along with the faint scent of dog. He did like cars and was a bit of a grease-monkey on occasion, and Ashley could recall more than one morning when she'd walked down the drive to check the mail only to see his garage open and his head stuck in the engine of his dad's '67, but even for him this was a new level of grime.

He used to run out to her when she called for his attention to ask if 'Greased Lightning' was fixed yet, ranting about how that was a completely different car and threatening to wipe his oil-blackened fingers all over her face if she 'kept asking every time'. That threat was real because he'd chase her with it, laughing whether she escaped or not, all the way to her door. He caught her more often then not if she didn't see him coming early enough and she'd shriek and laugh as he gave her makeshift warpaint and called it a masterpiece. There was one day, though, that she made it to the hose before he made it to her.

His desperate need for a bath aside, they were all shocked to silence when the stranger came around rapping on the back door, and Ashley instinctively clung to Sam. She just wasn't gonna get a break from the scares tonight, and Sam's hoodie wasn't gonna get a chance to de-wrinkle if she kept clutching it in her hands.

Mike still had that gun he'd bashed Josh in the face with, and he and Chris went to go check it out. But instead of shooting anyone or getting the guy to go away, they instead came back with that flamethrower-wielding man who looked as much like a slasher movie villain as one could get (and also strangely like a certain bum she walked past occasionally on the way to the bookstore). Needless to say, they were all more than a little freaked at the sight of him until Emily mentioned how he'd saved her ass. Sam though, always the mother hen, still grabbed onto both she and Ash again when he stalked in and dropped his things by the hearth. Emily was back to squeezing her hand but she didn't mind and squeezed it back.

"So this was the man that was stalking you?"

Ashley gave a nod this time, and the snarky Hellian in the mirror was, shockingly, not being snarky about it. "Yeah. But, like... he wasn't stalking 'us' so much as hunting for 'them'."

"'Them'? You mean the monsters?" For some reason it was odd; Ashley had been completely off the wall with something akin to joy a minute ago when she'd first decided not to brush it off, but still found it strange that that skepticism in not-mom's words was still absent. She was maybe... really, _actually_ starting to believe? Fat chance, but optimism had been hard to come by lately, so Ash opted for trying to hold on to some of her own.

Her brows furrowed at first but she was quick to soften her face again. Probably didn't go unnoticed though considering the look she got in return. "Y-yeah..." She replied, cautiously, and her fingers hooked on the letterman's collar again to cup it over her face. "He wasn't there to hurt us, never had been. He just wanted us to get off the mountain because it was dangerous." He'd just told them flat out that if they stayed they were going to die. For real, not as part of a prank. Ash wondered briefly ( _real_ briefly) if this was still part of Josh's not-so-fun game. But that flamethrower and the other weapons visibly attached to him, and the way he talked about it all... he had her and everyone else pretty convinced. Even if it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't at this point. And with Emily's murmured agreement on what she'd seen, even Mike was having a hard time ignoring the possibilities.

When she first heard who he said the mountain belonged to- heard what he'd called them, Ashley was tempted to ask him to repeat it again just to make sure. But there was no mistaking it. Wendigo. Wendigo... She knew what they were; had used them in a short story or two before and had done some researching herself beforehand. But nothing so in depth as he had. She'd done her reading, sure, but he'd been _living_ up there with them, presumably for _decades_ going by the journal and the extent it held of his knowledge on the things. They were native American folklore; having devolved mainly into stories mothers told their children to keep them in line but they were real once, to those like the Cree. Terrible, bloodthirsty monsters whose screech could curdle blood.

And Chris wanted to go out there with them.

Thinking about it now... it made her stomach twist and lurch and wind itself up into knots so tight she thought she might keel over and die. And her guilt-ridden conscience wasn't exactly against it. She drew her legs up into the chair with her to rest her head on, and her fingers snuck up out of the collar to drum on her cheek and she found somewhere to look that wasn't at not-mom and those concerned mom eyes that were just making her feel worse. She decided that the tile just down to her left was where she'd pour her guilt because that's where she trained her eyes.

Ashley had been so scared of Josh after what happened in the basement. She remembered how she'd told Chris just to leave him in the shed; how she'd grabbed his hand and insisted that he shouldn't bother risking his own life because of how Josh had straight up tried to fucking _murder_ them. She hadn't thought twice about saying that shit back then, she was too sore, too scared, wasn't thinking... Now, though... now she saw how terrible she had been. How terrible those _words_ had been. Josh hadn't tried to kill them, he was _'sick'_ , that wasn't _him_.

 _'That'_ was the 'Psycho', not Josh. Josh was loving, friendly, would _never_ hurt her or Chris or any one of them because he was the kind of person who found people he loved and _treasured_ them. He didn't act on violent, hate-fueled impulses, he would never have let himself be so burdened by grudge that it would tear him down to nothing but a _'monster'_. He was the kind of guy who showed up, sometimes out of nowhere, and if people weren't laughing he'd have made it his sole mission in life to _make_ them because he knew what it was like to be unable to; who, when he caught someones eye he'd give that stupid fucking smile that wasn't a shit-eating grin but a _'smile'_ and if he didn't get one back he'd just raise his arms up and make however big a scene he needed until he got a hug because _he_ was the kind of _'person'_ who just had those _goddamn_ , _fucking **'spidey'**_ senses for picking out people who weren't _happy enough_. _'That'_ was who he was.

Ashley wished she'd have hugged him more; wished she hadn't just abandoned all hope in a moment of fear and panic and left him for dead, because he wasn't a monster. He was _Josh_. He was her _friend_ , and more a person than most.

 _'She'_ was the monster for giving up on him like that. Not just then, but all last year as well. She wasn't there when he needed her; wasn't there to give _'him'_ hugs when _'he'_ wasn't happy enough. Because she knew that if it'd been the other way around - if it'd been _'her'_ who needed _'him'_ , he'd have _been there_. And if he couldn't have, he'd have made sure someone was.

Because absence was something one could _never_ just take back.

Especially not the kind where you leave a guy in a shed just waiting to be picked off by a blood-thirsty wendigo. Which was what Mike had, unknowingly, just done to Josh. And Chris wasn't leaving him out there. 'Forgive and forget' was one thing, sure, but just like when Josh had first taken off that mask Ashley was caught between being amazed at just how _forgiving_ Chris was, and wanting to slap the ever-living shit out of him. Because as soon as that flamethrower guy said he was dead meat already, he was up on his feet insisting that he couldn't possibly be gone- not when they'd _just_ been with him hardly ten minutes before, and that he wasn't going to leave him out there. Josh was his best friend, his only brother - no matter what he'd done to them he didn't deserve to be left out there for dead and Chris wasn't about to just let that happen. And Ashley felt like shit because she'd only been able to tell him that it wasn't worth it.

It was, though. _'He'_ was, though. Josh was their friend and they loved him, and that meant that he deserved to be safe and deserved a chance to get out of that Hell hole alive. So going out to get him (with the stranger leading the way) was a risk he had and was willing to take. He didn't even have to think twice about it, it was happening no matter Ashley's protests. At least she'd managed to get up off her ass and give him a kiss for the road.

Sam had gotten she and Emily up on their feet again, and with Mike leading the way after getting his gun back they headed to the basement, but at the top of the steps Ashley pulled her hand back and ran off towards the back hall where she could hear that rough-throated stranger berating Chris about how to use a gun. Mike was bickering with Sam about waiting for her but their words were drowned out when she rounded the corner.

"So he just left with him?" There was that incredulous tone again finally, the one that'd been missing since the very start of their interrogation. If Chris had been _her_  not-son, he'd have been in a shit ton of trouble. "This stranger with a ' _flamethrower_ ' that you'd thought was a murderer just a few minutes before?"

' _'Who you only started believing wasn't_ 'actually' _a machete-wielding homicidal maniac after he forced his way in, stole your gun, and told you about the mythical beasties in the trees',_ ' Ashley finished for her. In her own mind, of course. Which meant not-Ash repeated her out loud. God, she was glad the bitch was mute to everyone but her. Being threatened to be turned into dinner and a shake for a very hungry doppelgänger didn't scare her enough for her to stop being snarky. And, honestly, Ashley couldn't help but actually find it somewhat funny, but there wasn't exactly any room for amusement so she kept her alter-ego's very much inaudible retorts to herself and just nodded.

She didn't exactly tell not-mom about the kiss either, considering there were a lot of things that'd happened that night that probably weren't her business and she wouldn't have cared to hear anyways, and that had been one of them. With how she'd responded to hearing how Chris had run out with a potential murderer, she wasn't sure how her not-mom would take knowing her not-daughter was out kissing boys who made bad decisions. So over the fingers she pressed against her lips, she muttered out an almost painfully vague 'yeah', not bothering to elaborate though she was mostly positive the woman had wanted some kind of explanation for Chris's inanely irrational decision. She wasn't about to give her one though, and mostly lost interest for a moment; a small break she gave herself that she thought she more than deserved.

She really would have liked to have gotten a little lost in the memory this time, even though up until now that had been exactly what she'd spent all the energy she didn't have preventing herself from doing. Reality was a little too crushing by now, so she had to settle for the dark tiles under the table to focus on as she held her fingers to her lips and tried to remember it, but they were cold and couldn't be compared. Still she tried, letting her eyes fall closed as she breathed a bit as if to warm them up and make it easier. It'd been nice; a bit of relief from the panic that wasn't another shitty joke, and it was something she'd been wanting to do for way too long for how short of a time it'd lasted.

Honestly, she wished she'd have snatched that shotgun out of Chris's hands with him distracted and gone outside with the stranger herself, because she may have been afraid of every little thing that moved in her periphery but at least that fearfulness meant she could run like a fucking _champ_. But she hadn't, and Chris wouldn't have let her anyways even if she'd managed to get the gun from him in the first place. She wasn't exactly confident that she'd have been able to whack him upside the head with it or anything... So she instead got left behind to shut the door, listening to his words stammer a bit when he tried to keep up appearances in front of the stranger. No matter the danger, Ashley had still managed to revel in the fact that she'd gotten to him.

' _What a fucking dip._ '

What could have been a laugh escaped her at not-Ashley reminding her what she'd thought upon staring at Chris as he tried to save face, but it was hard to tell behind the letterman and her fingers and the knee her face was pressed against. Her shoulders hiccuped with it, but mostly she was still trying to focus on that poor tile on the ground that was in the process of shocking itself with how much guilt and emotion it was able to bear. That was one strong fucking tile, because that shit weighed a _ton_. You go, little buddy.

The flamethrower guy had told them all to head down to the basement while he and Chris were off to get Josh, where it was (presumably) safe, until they got back. But despite Sam and Emily's attempts to get her to head downstairs with them after getting back, she couldn't, even though Mike had been painstakingly convinced to wait on her with them. All the doors were locked, and Chris was out there. They couldn't just ditch him and the other guy. So she just sat there at the top of the stairs, offering a half-hearted wave to Sam when she'd looked back and tried one last time to get her to come with them, and she waited. Sure, she was scared - jumped at every little noise fearing it was this mythological monster that some weirdo Jason-wannabe had convinced them all was going to eat them - but she stayed there, fear freezing her and keeping her ass planted on the chilly steps but mainly because she really just couldn't bring herself to ditch them. She knew they might could have gotten in by themselves if they needed to; a rock through the glass and the back door wouldn't be too difficult to open, but she had to know they were okay. Had to know Chris was okay.

They weren't gone for very long. Ashley had passed the time by humming out a tuneless ditty to herself to fill the quiet since there was no not-self to DJ for her, and she watched the massive chandelier sway gently when the wind and snow outside made the lodge shift. Maybe five minutes in she heard a door down in the basement get shoved open, and though she couldn't see him she heard Mike grumbling out her name and asking if Chris and 'Daniel Boone' were back yet. She called down a 'no' and laughed when all she got back was a frustrated and impatient, mostly unintelligible noise that she could only assume was button-smashing made audible. He must've collapsed into one of the chairs in the theater to wait because he didn't join her, but she could still hear him grumbling. She continued with her song, and in the interrogation room her boots had picked up what they remembered of it. But it didn't last.

Just as she was nearing the eleventh or twelfth verse of what could have definitely been the next chart-topper, her humming was cut short and she almost threw herself down the steps when the sound of a gunshot made her jump. It came from outside though was still a distance away, out the back door that she could just see from her spot at the top of the stairs. The quiet suddenly sounded much more desirable, but it was shattered for good because not thirty seconds later there came another shot; noticeably closer this time. She let go of her knees and leaned back to see around the railing at first, cautious and wanting to get a look at what was coming before she stood, but as she reached back to touch the rug and climb to her feet, more than just the third gunshot reached her ears.

In the interrogation room, Ashley sucked her knees in as close as she was able, and hid her nose in the jacket again. Sheriff Cline couldn't see her face but going by her eyes she knew she wasn't smiling or sneaking giggles anymore. Because that scream that echoed through the night air and right through the walls was more piercing than Emily's had been, and cut through the wind and the snow and the dusty air of the lodge like absolutely nothing, and Ashley physically tripped over her own apprehension at the sound. She stayed standing but remained rooted to her spot halfway between the back door and the stairs to the basement, hearing Mike shout from downstairs again asking what the fuck it had been because it _hadn't_ been human. She couldn't respond though because she didn't know, and she couldn't move to find out. At least not until it came a second time, and then a third, and then a cry came that wasn't shrill and high-pitched but muffled and in pain. She could hear Chris just barely when he dropped down that steep ridge and headed for her, damaging his leg in the process as it'd been a much further drop than anticipated, and the sound of his voice got her moving again.

She'd opened the door. She remembered she had- saw it very clearly as she choked out to the sheriff just what'd happened, muffled and hardly loud enough for her to hear let alone the camera. How she'd gotten her feet to take the steps they needed to, how she made it to the door and felt the cold of the glass reach out and touch her skin, and how she held onto the icy knob so tightly she thought if she were any stronger she'd have deformed it. She opened the door, _she opened the door..._

But she'd hesitated.

Ash's brows knit from the pain of remembering just how much of a _coward_ she was. She saw that skeletal form with its elongated, misshapen limbs wrapped in leathery skin that blended with the snow that blanketed the mountain before she'd even seen the blue of Chris's parka. Her breath had caught beneath her breast and suddenly the chill in her fingers filled the rest of her. Her hand was on the knob but it was frozen there. She heard the screeching, she heard the shotgun, she heard Chris shouting and saw him limping through the deep snow-

She was scared.

Mike's face being there when she turned around was more clear a picture than all the rest, and when she stumbled and fell back away from the door and away from that ' _thing_ ' just beyond it she just about fell right into him. His words to her were a ghost of incoherent noises that mixed in with the sound of the silence whirring in her ears and she was caught wondering when he'd even come back up to get her. But when he ushered with a hand on her back like the rangers had done with her glassy-eyed self through the station, she'd gone down the stairs ahead of him. She didn't look back, didn't think.

Not-Ashley was quiet, her feet were quiet. Not-mom was staring in concerned silence with her mom eyes and was _'quiet'_. Ashley buried her face the rest of the way into her knees so that they couldn't look at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, I can't wait to finish the next chapter 'cause it's _gonna be fun_  
>  (ʘᴗʘ✿)


	9. Sticks & Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sticks and stones may break my bones  
> but words will leave a lasting impression that will haunt a person on occassion for the rest of their life pls be gentle and don't say mean things to people
> 
> It's not a very nice thing to do :C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! ;;A;;  
> I wanted to have it up yesterday, but I wasn't happy with it. Still not sure if I'm totally happy with it and I might edit it a bit in the future, but for now it should be good!
> 
> Pls enjoy anyways, Ash has a bit of a moment.
> 
> Also, pls heed the tagged warnings !!

That arm around her waist hauling her back and away from the glass had nearly shocked the breath out of her, and aside from that and someone's hand holding hers Ash wasn't really sure about anything between that tank lighting up the air outside and seeing Sam and Emily's faces again. She could hear Mike's words as he spoke, breathless and garbled nonsense to her ears for the most part though there were no chopper blades to make it that way. Ash caught bits and pieces but it wasn't much, heard him saying how things 'weren't so good up there'.

' _Weren't so good up there? Did he not see it? Did he not_ see _that thing??_ '

Ashley didn't even have the energy to tell her not-self to shut up this time. It'd all gone into attempting to keep her warm, but now she was left there more freezing than she had been. There wasn't any warmth to be found in Matt's letterman anymore either, so her arms gave up on her and slipped back into the sleeves to hold onto her knees instead.

All she could do when they made it downstairs was lean back against the rattling links of their metal cage as Mike shut the door, Emily holding onto her arm and both she and Sam trying to ask what'd happened. Any questions so much as aimed in her direction Mike deflected back onto himself, and she was grateful for that both because she wasn't sure she could've made herself answer, and because she could hardly hear them. She didn't know how he was able to hold it together so well when she was sure he'd seen it too. He had to have seen it, the wendigo was right there - right outside the door and screeching and wanting to tear them apart. He wasn't blind, and he most definitely wasn't stupid; he'd seen everything that she had. Yet he was still able to keep talking, because the fact stood that he was _still_ better at being scared than she was. At this point probably better than the rest of them. She wished more than ever that Jess and Matt were there.

When Emily let go of her and the attention was anywhere but in her corner of the room, she wanted to grab for her hand again but caught herself before she could, twisting her fingers back up and into the cuffs of the letterman and holding on to her own shoulders instead. The three of them had moved to the counter where there was more light and were still talking in hard to understand gibberish, Mike's words less than calm but still he managed to keep up the strong front. It would have amazed her had she been paying enough attention, but instead she was caught up in the running gibberish of her _own_ mind, and boy if they could have heard _that_ mess. Her train of thought had long since turned over and skid right off the rails.

Keeping quiet there in her corner of the room where she could focus on her boots and the floor she was still trying to wrap her mind around it, still trying not to panic because they were _real_. Monsters were real, and they were out there. Lurking and waiting or perhaps worse: they could have been avidly trying to track them down.

After she had decided that her boots weren't the best at listening to her worries, not so absorbent in the emotional department, Ash did look up again, watching Mike stalk around and spout what ideas he could come up with. She may not have been able to listen and, Hell, her sight may have been going a little too, but she could see how Emily was just about doing the same as she was; gripping onto her own shoulder as Mike went on about needing to get out of there. Emily had already called the rangers; someone _was_ coming for them, but he wanted to get them out of there because who the Hell knew how long it might take rescue to come? Could have been an hour before the storm passed and the sun came out, could have been two days. They weren't going to make it ten minutes if what lurked out there and in the tunnels got in. Plus, this was Mike. Mike the hero. Always the hero. And he wasn't willing to let them die.

' _But he was._ '

Ashley's grip on her knees tightened at those words, her nails snagging on the fabric of her leggings and scraping the skin underneath. Not-Ash knew what was coming and she was more than ready to jump all over it in search of the words to say that she was sure would cut the deepest. Without even bothering to look up at her she could tell that not-mom was giving her a look again but Ash couldn't even blame her, she was sure her face had twisted up into something less than okay. Nothing new there. She wished not-mom would get used to it by now because those mom eyes were getting harder and harder to pretend to ignore.

No such luck.

So her face got to continue to twist up and the mom eyes got to continue trying to make her look up at them and feel bad for making them look so worried at her. However there sure as frick wasn't anything she was able to do about it, because watching Emily pick up that journal from the counter, the journal they should have read just two minutes earlier, only solidified what she knew was coming next. She could feel her heart thrumming against her sternum and it wasn't so hard but she wasn't exactly in a trusting mood towards it anymore. Any moment now it could pick up it's pace and become the next MMA champ and burst right out of her chest again.

' _He was willing to let us die._ '

Not-Ashley really was itching for this to get going. She and her heart must've been in cahoots by now, trying to work together with their serenading sad songs and punching at her ribs to throw her into an early grave. That pit that hung behind her just as it had since the ghost hunting days would do nicely, looking less and less inviting by the second. If it had looked inviting at any point at all?

There was nearly a hundred percent positive chance that it had never looked inviting. _Nearly_. And speaking of serenading, there hadn't been a song in a while. DJ Feel Good over there was slacking off.

' _He wasn't a hero._ '

Christ.

Ash pulled away from her inner monologue and, skillfully avoiding not-mom's gaze and its keen ability to make a petty thief confess to manslaughter, she went back to thinking on Emily. One more short and shitty pep talk about how she could get through this later, she was back to watching Emily through her past-self's eyes and fighting off the cold both in the basement and in the ranger station.

It had taken a hand on her arm and a few soft spoken words, a good few minutes of trying to stumble out of her dark corner and away from that gaping pit, and all the concentration she could spare back then to really hear them, but she was sure Emily was talking about how it-... how the _wendigo_ lived down there in the mines. How it could have taken Josh there. And Josh had the keys to the cable car and Mike-

' _He was willing to let us die._ '

Mike... He wanted to run off and find Josh, but he didn't. He didn't because (and here came the reason for that distrust in her own heart to stay calm) Ashley had chosen that moment to speak up, and her voice stopped him. Her fingers tightened their grip on her knees and she could feel the French tips digging into her skin only deeper. She was sure she'd accidentally torn a hole by now.

' _He was willing to kill us._ '

No, no no. He didn't want to. No matter her not-self's words Ashley was sure of that. Mike was smart; Mike was playful and brave and maybe a bit of an ass on occasion but he was still the kind of guy who put himself in danger to _save_ others. Not _kill_ them. He liked joking and cars and chasing people around with hands covered in motor oil. He liked girls and being the center of attention because he liked people. He loved people. He loved _Emily_. "He had- he thought he had to do it-" Shit, she wasn't sure just how bad her voice was ready to crack until it actually came out. It was difficult just to get that first sentence past her lips. That thrumming was growing harder even this early on, and she gave up the grip on one of her knees to grab the 'M' of the letterman once again and press down on her chest. Little fucker wasn't gonna give her another break right now. There wasn't any music for her boots to dance to, but the BPM of whatever song her heart was jamming out to was increasing way too much way too quickly. Her arms were heating up again.

' _I was willing to kill us._ '

It was getting harder and harder to tell the difference between not-Ashley and the woman across the table. They were trying to speak over each other and it was becoming increasingly impossible to differentiate between the mom-voice and Satan's little princess. "Who? Who thought they had to do what?" There was that concern again but there was no skepticism, no incredulous look. She kind of wished she couldn't see so she wouldn't have to feel so terrible about trying to keep secrets. She wondered how her not-mom's potential kids ever got away with anything.

Mike had been the first to suggest that the bite was infectious and could turn her, his words scared her and scared them all and Ash had chosen to believe them without question. That was what happened in all of the movies, in all of the stories... Hollywood had bullshit them to murder and Mike picked up the gun and raised his voice just like he had at Josh. Just the memory of the fear masquerading as anger made her nervous and that lying warmth in her arms grew hot and spread further. Her skin still felt like ice on the surface.

"We should have read his journal first." Ash said instead of giving an answer, words bubbling with regret without her permission. She knew she was more than upset and could feel it only growing worse, but the words in her head and the hand still on her arm were trying to keep her calm and level. It was getting more difficult the longer she was able to think, though. And thinking wasn't getting any less exhausting. "He'd been up there for years with these things and he was the one that knew about them, not Mike. But we didn't even look. We didn't even give her two minutes... We could have seen that she wasn't gonna turn and Mike wouldn't have... and she'd still be here and-... but we didn't- she's just..." Her voice was so small, and it shattered - cracked like a child's. She certainly hadn't given it permission to do that either, but instead of arguing the matter with herself considering she probably wasn't going to listen anyways, she pressed her face into her knees again. Just trying to shake the memories away wasn't going to erase the fact that it had all happened though, she knew that, but she wished she didn't. 'Ignorance is bliss' and all that artsy baloney.

' _I didn't even give her two minutes._ '

"He said... He said she could turn into one of those things. It bit her and he said she might turn and I-... _everything_ I've ever read, every movie- they _always_ _turn!_ " Her voice raising with the panic she was trying to not feel was enough to start even her. Her heart seriously needed to calm the frick down and, no matter the truth in it, not-Ash really, _really_ needed to shut the _Hell_ up.

' _This isn't a movie._ '

Well, that certainly wasn't fucking helping. She knew it, but like everything else the bitch across the room was spewing she didn't want to hear it. More than Not-Ashley, though, Ash found that she was also growing increasingly more agitated with her own self. She wasn't entirely sure why - could have been the anxiety she fought to keep down, could have been that burning under her skin, she didn't know. But it was getting harder to fend off.

"That's just how it goes, you know? You get bit and you turn. You _turn_ and you _bite_ and you _kill_ and other people turn." It just made sense and it just felt so _real_ like that was _it_ , that was what was gonna happen; there was nothing else that _could_ happen. That increasing urge to vomit that had been coming and going for the past couple hours was back to pressing on the back of her throat. Her words weren't slowing down and they weren't listening to her.

' _This isn't a book. This isn't a story that mothers tell their children to keep them in line. They were real once and they're_ still _real._ '

"We thought... we thought she was infected- we thought she was going to kill us... Mike saw all that stuff in the sanatorium, he saw all that stuff and he _knew_ what would happen. W-we thought he knew what would happen, he saw so many of them... She was still Emily though. She was still _her_ when he shot her and I j- I just _watched_ and I w- I was just..."

' _I was just the one who told him to shoot._ '

At the words, she felt her nails jerk and drag across the skin of her knee. It was red from the repeated pressing and clawing that she didn't realize she'd been doing almost constantly. The holes she'd managed to dig were small but getting worse. "It bit her... it _bit_ her, we didn't think there was anything we could do. We were scared..." Just a repeat. Ashley felt like a broken record but she could hardly tell anymore what she'd said, what she'd thought, and what the reflection that wasn't her reflection had whispered to her. She stared across the room at those soul-eating pits and felt her eyes burning red like the rest of her insides.

' _I egged him on._ '

The tension in the room was rising with Ashley's voice, she could feel it in her chest and on her shoulders and weighing down the stale air, but she wondered briefly if it was maybe just her. Not-mom was still talking so soft and so careful like she couldn't hardly feel it at all. "Was it the monster that bit her?" She coaxed.

It struck a nerve almost. Ashley didn't want to be mad; she was feeling everything from that fear to hate to overwhelming guilt because not-Ash was right. It was _her_ _fault_ \- there was no energy to be mad let alone the room in her conscience to fit it. But her lips snapped out the words before they could realize what the rest of her had to spare and what it didn't.

"The _'wendigo'_." She was only just able to keep herself from shouting, nails stabbing hard into her skin. Some part of her was just so royally _pissed_ that the sheriff wouldn't call it what it was. "The _wendigo_ bit her! It was what chased her out of the mines, it was what dragged Jess off-"

Whether it was to listen or because she'd gotten her to say it again Ash wasn't sure, but sheriff Cline had stopped egging her on again.

"And h-he said it was from _eating_ people. He said that they- that they ' _came_ ' or they were ' _made_ ' or ' _woke_ _up_ '- I don't know! That they existed because of people _eating_ each other and there was _Hannah_ and Em _'said'_ she didn't die. She said she didn't die and she was _stuck_ down there, and... just..." Her voice very quickly rose in pitch until it strained her throat and was nothing more that words trying to force themselves out over a whine and the sickness blocking her airways. Her hands had abandoned her knee and trying to calm her heart and had pushed into her hair now instead. She shoved her beanie off of her head and she could feel that it was gone but didn't realize until now that, just like Matt's letterman and the rest of her clothes, it wasn't helping to keep her warm at all either. Nothing was except whatever the _fuck_ was setting fire to her muscles and her blood and fucking _Hell_ she was _burning up_.

"Hannah...?" Able to feel the tears building up in them again, Ash's eyes shot across the table, hands still tangled in her hair and resting there now just holding her head, ready to rip it all out if it meant stalling the panic she knew was trying to take over. "Hannah Washington?"

There wasn't any taking it back but Ash realized quickly that she didn't even want to. If she hadn't been thought crazy before she figured she probably sounded pretty close to it now, and part of her knew from the beginning that it couldn't be helped. That wendigo, the monster... whatever they wanted to call it, whatever they 'didn't' want to call it - it was Hannah. It was _Hannah_. She hadn't said that bit out loud but she had the feeling that if she tried to say otherwise, tried to convince her that that wasn't what she'd meant and wasn't what she believed, not-mom wouldn't have fallen for it.  All she could do was try and fail to give even a nod, looking from the camera to the table and then back over at the sheriff, "The... the monster..." Ashley didn't elaborate, mainly because she really just didn't know how to.

"You're saying that Hannah Washington was the monster?"

Ashley's eyes flicked up to the camera again, and this time when she tried she did manage to shake her head. Trying to look some kind of convincing. "N-no. Just... No, not Hannah. The m-... the wendigo bit her. Bit Emily."

Not-mom watched her for a moment. Watched how her eyes snuck too many peaks at the thing recording every single word and every look and all the fear in her words that it seemed she was only just now beginning to realize was there. It was finally beginning to make her nervous, but she didn't say anything. She didn't even question the thing about Hannah any further.

Ash had the sneaking suspicion that, because of the camera over her shoulder, she wasn't going to. She hoped that meant she really was convinced.

Still holding on to that look and way about her that was just way too freaking _calm_ , not-mom shifted in her seat and leaned against the table, sneaking another look at her notepad. Contemplating whether to believe in any of the notes Ash was sure she'd been jotting down the entire time, she hoped, about how she was _certain_ she was completely and utterly bat shit crazy. Whatever it was she didn't speak up for a bit, giving Ashley the chance to loosen the vice grip she had on her hair, and her fingers slid from it and held onto her shoulders again. She felt the blow of what she assumed was completely unnecessary AC on her ears, or maybe just the ghost of Christmas yet to come trying to snatch her away to show her the padded room she was gonna get. Whatever it was, it was strange and all too unfamiliar to feel a breeze on her ears at all. She glanced around for her beanie and bent to pick it up from the tile.

"So you thought that the 'wendigo' bit Emily..." It was as Ash was turning her hat in her hands, trying to find the front with the little label out of habit, that not-mom grabbed her attention again. She abandoned the search and just pulled it on. A little silly, maybe, but she felt insecure without it. And after the night they'd had and with how it still wasn't over, that security was what she needed the most right now. In spite of her hopes though it didn't slow her heart any. "And Michael assumed she was going to turn into one? You all thought that?"

' _Except for Sam._ '

"Except for Sam..." She repeated. When she pulled in a breath it came more shallow than she had expected. Her chest constricted and she could feel the air being squeezed out of her forcefully, little by little.

"Sam tried to stop him?"

Ash pressed her lips tight and she wrapped her arms back around her. She could feel her pulse burning in her temples and, since her feet had found the floor again when she'd gone to grab her beanie, they began to hum with what couldn't possibly be music at this point. She wanted to hide away in Matt's letterman again.

Yeah, Sam had tried. But it didn't matter.

When she got no answer, sheriff Cline pushed on. If 'pushing' is what you'd call very softly trying to will the words out of her. "But she couldn't..."

"She tried..." The words came without air. Ash was only looking at the sheriff now out of sheer force of will, but that too was very quickly crumbling along with any part of her that considered herself a person anymore. It hadn't taken much to break that wall down, admittedly. "She tried, but Mike still... He still..." She couldn't say it, still unsure if she really wanted to blame him for it. Her conscience was torn between telling them what'd happened and telling them the _'truth'_. _He_ had pulled the trigger, yeah, but she might as well have been holding the gun. She'd already given plenty of information on it though for conclusions to be drawn.

"So it was Michael who shot her, not Josh..." She was just saying it to clarify for the camera, but there was just about as much hesitance in not-mom to spit that out as a lion snapping the neck of a gazelle. Ash's whole body jerked and that ice on her skin froze her solid. Hearing it out loud... Hearing it said so bluntly and so _simply_... It brought her right back again.

All she could really remember thinking when the world stood still after that shot rang out was exactly what she'd thought earlier; they were in a movie. They had to be in a movie- not a rom-com and not one of Josh's, because this couldn't be real. It couldn't _possibly_ be real.

That image hadn't come from her imagination though, no matter how vivid it was. The image that had been _seared_ into her mind just a few hours ago of Emily's head being thrown back against the cork board was resurfacing and haunting her and stealing her breath until it'd forced her to spill it all. She could still hear the ringing that the shot left in her ears. And suddenly she realized, when her eyes caught sight of her hands again and the cuffs of Matt's jacket, that some of the blood that clung to the blue, to her shorts and her face... Some of it could have been Emily's. She hadn't thought of it until now. She'd been standing close enough that it probably hit her. It'd spattered on the floor near her feet and so it could have hit the rest of her. The very real possibility made her gag when already she could hardly breathe, and she wanted nothing more than to rip the letterman off and clean the red from her cheeks because it wasn't 'just pig's blood', it was ' _Emily_ '.

Not-mom's voice pierced that ringing and her eyes shot up across the table and there were those mom eyes looking at her again, cautious and _worried_ and _'caring'_. But Ash couldn't focus on that, because just past her - just over her shoulder, not-Ash was smiling again. Like the _fucking_ Mona Lisa, this bitch was _'smiling'_ while Ash was coming apart at the seams. And as the stitches pulled taught and broke, all that spilled out instead of her boiling blood was the guilt and the fear and the _regret_ that she'd been hanging on to for more than just that last few hours. For the past _year_.

She must have been panicking more on the outside than she thought she was, because not-mom was on the edge of her seat and trying to tell her to calm down, having abandoned her notes and a few more words of clarification for the camera. Looked like she was ready to jump to her feet at any moment and Ashley hadn't realized how she'd begun to hyperventilate. All she could see were all of those cop shows where the detective would jump up with a gun when someone got out of hand. But not-mom wasn't about that; wasn't about 'capping' people and scaring kids who were scared already. She just wanted her to stop the frantic breathing because Ash probably looked like she was going to pass out. She _felt_ like she was going to pass out.

When Mike pulled the gun though it was worse than it was now; when he aimed it at Emily and they all stopped short and her heart leapt into her throat. She wanted Emily out because she didn't want her to turn and pick them off before they could get out of the giant cage they were locked in, she didn't want her _dead_. She especially didn't want her dead by their hands. When she tried to speak up though it seemed that finally she couldn't; the words bounded around in her mind and teased at her lips but she couldn't spare the lack of breaths she wasn't taking to form them. She wanted to take back everything she'd said, wanted to go back and pull Emily's jacket tighter around her and cover the bite instead of pointing it out to everyone.

But she did nothing. She couldn't move the two steps it would've taken to put herself between the girl backing up onto the counter like a cornered animal and the revolver, let alone move through time. God had decided not to give her _that_ ability either. The other times may have been worse than just an inconvenience but he was _really_ skimping out on her with this one.

And through the muffled filter that'd filled her ears at the sight of the weapon, over Emily's crying, she heard Sam screaming at him what she couldn't say herself but what not-Ashley could repeat perfectly well. ' _Mike, put it down. Put it down. Please, please stop,_ 'she yelled at him, frantic, ' _you're scaring her- you're scaring all of us! Michael James Munroe, put it down right now!_ '

There it was again. Straight from begging with tears in her eyes to the same mom voice that came now from across the table in the station, even using the middle name for a dash of authenticity, and Michael's arms faltered. He nearly dropped the gun when his eyes flicked to her, a reflex to hearing that tone he'd heard from his mother growing up, and she sounded so much like her that he had to do a double-take to make sure it really was still Sam. Ash couldn't blame him; she'd been having a hard time telling the voices apart before, but now she wasn't sure who was who because they all sounded the same.

Not-mom was still telling her to calm down but she hadn't gotten up yet. Ashley was wondering how loud she was talking, if she was still talking at all, because in her own head she could hardly hear herself over everything else. Over Not-Ash yelling and Sam yelling; the sound of her pulse beating in her ears and her feet bouncing restlessly against the legs of her chair, and over the tick of the clock on the wall. It felt like someone had suddenly turned off the air. Turned off the whole winter. Her blood was burning through her iced-over skin.

When Mike saw that it definitely wasn't the ghost of his mother he shook off that unexpected daze, and his eyes that definitely weren't mom eyes or the eyes of that grease monkey she'd had to fight off with the garden hose were back on Emily and his grip was more firm on the gun this time. He didn't push Sam away when she grabbed his arm to force it down, he moved her back. Away from him but also away from Emily because she was a threat and he was _scared_ of her. But it was Sam, and she wasn't going to let him do this and she was shouting again, but for hardly a moment before he stopped talking to Em for just long enough to cut off anymore of her words, shocking her into shutting up when he yelled right back.

Emily was begging, sobbing - Ashley hadn't seen her cry like this since they were younger; hadn't seen her break down and show how scared and torn up she was since middle school. At Jess's place after school when she was suddenly at the door, out of breath and her heart pounding. She'd cut the half-hour walk between their homes down to hardly ten after her parents told her that her brother wasn't coming home.

"...I was scared,"

' _That's no excuse. There's no excuse._ '

"I was so scared. I didn't want her to turn and then get 'us', I was so scared that she'd be like the things outside. I didn't _want_ her to die, I didn't want her to die I just wanted to be _safe_ , I was so scared... And then Mike-... and I... and Sam was trying to stop him- Emily was scared too and I didn't want him to shoot her but then he just..." Her hand raised up and then fell again, loosely in the form of a finger pistol but her body had acted without her and it seemed that as soon as she'd realized what it was doing she couldn't go through with it. "God, Em... I'm so sorry, Emily, I'm so sorry. I'm so so so so sorry- I d- I didn't want you to die, I'm so sorry-" Her throat closed up and she thought she might choke on the guilt. The brief and shuddering breaths didn't help either and she began to cough, still trying to apologize through the endless string of 'ohmyGod's but there was no use now. What had happened had happened and she couldn't change it. She couldn't change what she'd already said, what she'd let Mike do. What she'd _convinced_ him to do.

' _There's no excuse for this._ ' Ash's eyes found the mirror again and she was losing focus. It was getting harder and harder to speak. Like with Josh and Beth her not-self wasn't the only reflection that wasn't a reflection on the glass that wasn't glass but a gateway to somewhere dark. Darker even than the pit that was her shadow with it's patient waiting for a chance to pull her down.

She tried to speak again, but there was a pressure on her lungs that came from the inside pushing out that made it difficult to breathe but she wasn't gasping. Emily stared at her with the eye she still had and Ashley pressed her own closed as hard as she was able, praying to the shitty person that probably was - probably wasn't in the sky to make it go away.

And then it sunk into her skin and there wasn't a part of her that wasn't trembling, and she couldn't focus because _'there it was'_. That anxiety had been building and building because flushing it out with the water didn't work. She hadn't expected it too do anything but make her sick, but she'd held onto the false hope that maybe it wouldn't come back. But there was no mistaking it and it filled up her throat and choked out her words. Her body knew what was coming next before the memories had even come about. Emily was a ghost across the room and ghosts didn't exist but she still felt her fingers wrapping around her windpipe. "It w-... It... Emily sh-... I j-... I-" She could hardly get it out, no matter how hard she might've tried. There wasn't going to be any talking. She knew how this worked; knew that anytime she'd try to say anything, no matter if it'd been a confession or a simple hello, it was just going to get caught in the massive pile-up at the back of her throat and no words were going to come out. Her hands had felt clammy this entire time but now the rest of her was doing the same. Her eyes began to burn with the swelling of tears and she wanted to fight like all Hell to keep them back but she didn't have the energy or the will to spare, and they forced her eyes back open.

Emily was gone. Not-Ash was sitting there as she'd always been, just behind the sheriff's shoulder and still stoic and quiet and no longer singing. She hadn't been singing for a while. ' _It was my fault._ '

God, no. Please. Please, don't make it worse.

But that was not-Ashley's job, making things worse. And what was she if not the best employee her conscience could have found? Ashley's expression cinched and she began to fan herself, sitting up straighter for a moment and then right back to slouching the next, more than once as she tried to find some kind of way that would let her talk. The pins sticking her already-frozen fingers began to travel, all over her hands and up her arms to the rest of her. She felt the hair on them and the back of her neck stand up and her skin was freezing, but her insides were _burning_. Her insides and her eyes were burning and each breath she took that had nowhere to go but her lungs turned to scalding steam. Her head was filled with boiling water. When her body realized it wasn't going to be able to stand and carry her out of the room; not going to be able to get up and pace around and just walk this off, she began to fidget mercilessly in the chair, the restlessness in her legs spreading to all the rest of her, and the pain was gradual but when it came it sat there and it didn't get easier.

Sheriff Cline, not-mom- whatever her name was was up out of her seat and coming around the table. Ash thought she could hear her name but she wasn't paying attention. She was trying to look anywhere but at her; _anywhere_ but at the sheriff and at herself in the mirror. Her face had turned and focused on the darkest corner of the ceiling she could find. ' _I'm a murderer. I killed her-_ ' She turned her whole self as if that would help her to get away from it all. ' _I'm the reason she's dead._ '

She was right. _God_ , she was right. She was _so right_. Ashley bit back on her lip hard, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as if the wool of her gloves would help to muffle the sound when the crying came instead of words. ' _She's dead because I'm afraid... Always so afraid._ ' Her teeth pulled rough across her lip with the hard burst of a sob forcing them open. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, felt and arm on her shoulders; flinched away from a hand touching hers.

' _Always so scared..._ ' When she sucked in a breath it was nothing but a trembling gasp and her lungs shoved it right back out, too quick and too shallow. That was all she would get though; all they would give. She opened her eyes and it was impossible to see because they _burned_ and everything was red and the tears burned her cheeks and her hand and soaked into her glove. She had to look though, because that voice... It was hers, but it wasn't. It was so angry... She didn't remember this...

She saw her glove and her fingers, and the curls of yellow hair. Her mind said Sam, but pink fingernails said not-mom. It could have been either, she didn't understand the words that came in garbled English, chopped up by the helicopter blades and pushed through the cotton in her ears. Another stuttering breath that wasn't deep enough, another burning fall of tears. This was escalating away from anxiety. The more it built the more it turned from restlessness and a heart that wouldn't stop racing to full blown panic.

' _Can't even handle a little scary story._ ' Ash hadn't said these things to herself. They weren't her words. ' _Scared little Ashley who can't even help herself._ ' No. No no, she h-... she hadn't said... hadn't thought-

' _Always such a baby!_ ' The voice was so loud and so incredibly close to her, she hadn't meant to but when she flinched she shoved hard at Sam or the sheriff or mom- whoever was touching her. She nearly toppled the chair and threw herself to the ground though she hadn't meant to- Or, she might have. She didn't remember; still couldn't see anything. Couldn't _breathe_. Her heart had been in her chest a moment ago, beating into her lungs and her ribs, and then in her head pummeling her mind and making it impossible to think. Her thoughts were blurry, her eyes were blurry, she couldn't speak, she could run-

The door opened and fell shut again but she hadn't realized and didn't care. She couldn't see it, couldn't hear it, and she was alone. In the room that was too dim with a mirror that wasn't a mirror but a gateway to somewhere dark that she didn't want to go. That she didn't want to see. ' _The scary stories are real._ ' Please, no. Stop... Please-

' _They're real..._ ' Ashley's rasping breaths when she felt the icy breath against her ear would have stopped had her body allowed it, but they still came just as shallow and erratic as they were able, but she couldn't hear them anymore. They were there, but after that whisper of a voice from lips that had been just near enough to wisp a few strands of auburn hair out of place, they were drowned out by the sudden void of silence that sucked away any hint of life around; that pressed down so heavy on the air that she felt her lungs would cave in on her for being unable to take any in. Her body felt like frozen stone and this wasn't the shock she'd been hoping for earlier. A numbness filled her entire self yet left enough sense to let her fingers tremble, clutching her shoulders and the blue of the letterman.

That quiet offered no haven for her. There came no sense of safety and certainly no warmth. It wanted her to freeze and she complied, holding onto herself and afraid to turn her eyes anywhere but on her knees. Ice crackled across her skin but... moments of perpetual silence passed. And nothing happened.

The quiet didn't grow any louder, her fingers never lost that last bit of feeling, the darkness beneath the table didn't suddenly come to life and swallow her up like she had feared it might do... Everything just remained... 'still'. For long enough for her near-asthmatic breathing to slow and become manageable again. It remained more than just a little laborious, but still it was an improvement. There would never be any trusting what she saw or what she heard, though. Not here. It wasn't _safe_ here.

And then came a flicker in her periphery.

It was hardly anything, just a shadow of nothing out of the corner of her eye that had been there and then wasn't before she could even blink. She didn't chance blinking though. She wasn't completely sure that that wouldn't give Emily or Josh or Beth, or anyone else she hadn't seen but was sure was waiting, the chance to show up again.

She wasn't sure how long she spent just sitting there, winning a staring contest with the floor because she was afraid to close her eyes. She didn't see the flicker again but that was fine. It was silent, things were still - nothing changed. Not until her shoulders fell loose. Slowly, gradually, she cracked the ice she could feel encasing her skin, and lifted her head when she shouldn't have. What had been in the corner of her eye was the mirror, and there was nobody there. Not-Ashley was gone. Real-Ashley was gone. There was no her, no sheriff- nothing but an empty room and an empty chair and a camera still blinking it's little red light. She wasn't sure where her heart had gone but it wasn't in her chest. It wasn't in her head. She would have felt it. She couldn't feel it.

She was dying.

The long and steady tone gradually growing louder in her mind said it was so, like the flatline of a monitor. She deserved this.

Another wisp of breath against her neck and against her hair and the sound of whispered voices cut off the tone. Drawn by the noise she turned her face again to see the wall but instead of grey brick all that was waiting was that blackness; the soul-eating pits where there should have been eyes but were none. Not hiding in the dark to cast her a wink or shadowed by bruising, just _gone_. And they were so close to her that they were all she could see; sucking up any color that had been left around.

' _Murderer._ ' Ash threw herself back and hit the tile hard, screaming and dragging the chair with her. She didn't know what was happening she just needed to _get_ _away_. Her legs were just as shocked as the rest of her to find that they could hold her when she scrambled to her knees and to her feet, but for how long was anyone's guess. They pulled her forward though, around that ghost of herself who radiated the cold and filled the room with an icy chill like she'd never left the mountain at all. ' _Murderer!_ ' Not-Ashley's- No... her own voice spat at her, as she stumbled forward until her arm felt the wall- followed it until she found another. Her hands covered her face so she wouldn't chance seeing anything, so her not-self couldn't tear her soul out through her eyes. She pressed herself into the corner of the room because there was nowhere else to go. No place she could run to to hide this time because there's no place you can hide from yourself. ' _You're the reason she's dead!_ '

"No-" She moaned, but she couldn't even hear herself. Not over the heavy air and void of the room, and not over the boom of the voice only growing louder behind her; only growing closer. "nononono..." She didn't want to listen but it was the only thing she could hear. Clutching the rim of her beanie and pulling it down over her ears, Ash sunk to the floor as if it'd help. The chill was cutting through to her skin like sharp needles, stabbing into every inch of her body, the only sense of warmth being that of her tears as they burnt their way down her face. But even they turned to ice before hitting her knees.

Ashley felt that weight against her back and the cold on her shoulders and she new that that _demon_ was just behind her. She towered so tall and so dark that all the light of the room couldn't pass her. ' _You're the reason they're all dead._ ' She had stopped yelling. Stopped because she already had Ash cornered like an animal just as Emily had been, unable to get away; unable to listen to anything else. Behind her, the door to the room finally creaked open after what could have been _hours_ of nothing. That void filled with air that wasn't like ice and the weight of the silence was broken, but Ashley didn't notice and she didn't care and she didn't want to look up. A pair of footsteps stopped just near her and they weren't of her ghost, but not-Ashley's voice was still all that filled her head, a buoy in the boiling sea that she was sure had once been her rational mind.

One last stake in her heart came before she departed, back to the mirror where she could sit and wait and torment without notice from anyone else. It came so gentle it was hard to differentiate between her voice and the silence.

' _What are we gonna tell Matt...?_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops my finger slipped (a couple of times)  
> [[Link 1]](http://robitrabbit.tumblr.com/post/133071925969/mattxashley-did-u-mean-my-brotp-im)  
> [[Link 2]](http://robitrabbit.tumblr.com/post/133072027414/some-more-until-dawn-doodles-to-go-along-with-my)


	10. How Many Miles to Babylon?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SVU, Kardashians, Jersey Shore... there's nothing Jess won't make Ash watch. I like to imagine she's worse than the guys when it comes to scary movies, too.  
> Plot twist, Jess is a bigger film/television buff than Josh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this one took so long, I've been particularly busy! It's been half finished for almost two weeks, heh...
> 
> I'm running out of nursery rhymes here, this chapter naming system was a bad idea. But oh well, I'm neck deep in this shit, there ain't no turnin' back now. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

One in. Hold for three ticks. One out.

' _Don't forget to exhale, that part's the most important._ '

Another in. Hold for five ticks. Another out.

Rinse and repeat. Ash knew how to do this, her dad had shown her how when she had her first attack in front of him. She may have needed reminding each time but she knew how to do this. Usually she counted the seconds in her head but she was grateful for the not-digital clock on the wall now, kindly doing it for her. She still tapped the beat on the back of her hand but it was one less thing to think about.

When Ash had finally been able to stop crying and start breathing, it felt like more than just a little short of an hour had gone by. The clock on the wall and that begrudging way it ticked at her had said a quarter 'til eleven one moment, and then seven twenty-three the next, so other than for ticks she couldn't trust it. That was fine though, she didn't care about the time, and she was sure that time didn't exactly care about her either and was just passing by because life was a pretty demanding bitch and sentience wasn't free for all. Right now she only cared about the color of her boots and the warmth that hugging her knees brought.

One in.

' _Are you remembering to exhale?_ '

One out.

The voice this time wasn't her own, but it also wasn't being whispered into her ears with icy breath. It was her dad's, and came from her own head at her own beck and call, not as an impression from a reflection in the mirror that wasn't a mirror that she couldn't see very well from her perfectly comfortable spot there in the corner of the room, and certainly not from a reflection standing just at her back trying to scare her straight into some hole in the ground.

There was one voice though, aside from his and aside from her own, from just beside her. It asked a moment ago if she had any pets and she'd told it about Catsby and how fat he was and how he was named after a character in a book she liked; it had told her how it'd read the book too and it was one of its favorites. And before that one it'd wanted to know what her favorite color was and she'd said brown because that was what color her boots were. It wasn't her favorite, it was just an answer.

The voice though wasn't just a voice that the too-thick air had conjured up out of itself to calm her down, but came from a man with pretty hair and high cheekbones, in a fancy tie and slacks that looked a little too expensive to be sitting on the floor in. He'd given his name but she hadn't exactly been coherent enough to catch it and was tempted to ask but held her tongue, sure that they were on a first-name basis as soon as he'd joined her on the tile but unable to refer to him as anything but Dr. Huang after a few minutes of it not resurfacing in the conversation at all. He wasn't Chinese or anything, but the clothes and the tone and pretty much just everything other than the ethnicity had her thinking again to the cop shows and Law & Order that Emily and Jess had always liked a little too much, and the more she thought about it the more he began to sound just like him. Why such a small town needed a forensic psychiatrist was a mystery to her, unless there were more homicides here than she'd originally assumed and those perps that not-mom had gotten to confess to murder were _actual_ murderers and not petty thieves.

She didn't ask. However big the list was she knew for certain that she'd unofficially stamped her own name on it.

And all of the things he was asking her now... They were all just decoy topics, she had put that much together after calming down. They were to get her mind off of what'd happened and onto something else - anything else. But before they could 'chat', Dr. Huang had had to get her attention in the first place, which was probably the more difficult part as all she could hear was not-Ash in her ears, scorning her - damning her to whichever layer of Hell was designated for murderers and pointing out every little thing she'd done wrong with a burning knife to the heart; repeating to her every single decision she'd made and going into unbearable detail on how they got everyone killed. All of this for the soul purpose of linking it back so she could tell her that it was _her fault_ , as if she didn't know that already. She could have just handed her the metaphorical shovel and she'd have buried her own damn self in that metaphorical grave, she hadn't needed to keep yelling at her.

The doc though took a bit less of an over-dramatic approach to it all; had simply knelt down, waited for a break in her mumbling that should have been for breathing though at that point she wasn't doing any of that useless bull, and once she tore her eyes from the corner and saw him there he smiled at her.

He'd been the one to do the reminding after seeing that she wasn't breathing. Telling her to take one in, count her three to five ticks, and don't forget to exhale.

The first questions he'd asked weren't so simple as they were now, as he knelt to the floor close enough for her to hear him when he spoke softly but not too close that she feared he might touch her. Her not-brother had made that mistake when he'd come in just in front of him; the grave mistake of trying to touch her shoulder before certainly-not-Dr. Huang or sheriff Cline could tell him not to, and now he was the probably-not-so-proud owner of two red and burning scratch marks across his right cheek. Thin, but no less painful. Her body had been forced to choose between fight or flight, and since there had been no escaping anywhere further than the corner she'd already put herself in or the hole she figured she belonged in, fighting had been her only option. She wasn't going to apologize, because still-a-doctor-but-not-Dr. Huang had warned him. She couldn't think properly, how was she supposed to be expected to control herself when her mind was getting away from her?

He'd gotten the boot pretty quick after that by not-mom, but even she was shushed when it so much sounded like she might raise her voice at him. This Huang stand-in very quickly proved to be a braver man than any thus far for that.

Once not-mom realized why she was being quieted, she swallowed any more potentially-loud words and swapped to a hushed voice to shoo Ash's not-bro from the room, telling him to go 'get his face fixed or something'. She herself only left when probably-actually-more-native-after-she'd-looked-at-him-Dr. Huang gave her a nod and let her know she could. When they were alone was when he asked first and foremost if she knew what was happening, words firm but also a sort of careful that said he'd done this before. He might have said her name a time or two as well but she couldn't be sure.

When Ash was unable to do much at all that could have been considered a response, he gave her a bit of time to try but when the silence persisted he asked something else. Was she afraid to be there, in that room? Would she like to go somewhere else? At the time she couldn't really understand him, too much was happening; too much was happening and her head hurt. She just shook it instead of saying anything. She didn't want to answer just wanted everything to stop.

It went on like this for a while, even if she wouldn't answer, with him just making idle conversation and reminding her that she was still okay and to exhale, until her erratic breathing had slowed and she forgot about it. Forgot what she was scared of at least temporarily, tucking it away until she could deal with it later. The room seemed a little brighter after a while, and she noticed that the corners weren't so black as pitch as she'd thought and the walls had turned a somewhat lighter shade of grey. Still grey though and still unsettling, but she no longer feared that at any moment the lights might go out and never come on again. It'd taken a while, and he was more patient than anyone Ash had ever met she was pretty sure.

That patience paid off, too, and at some point he'd managed to coax her out of the corner. Somewhat. She still refused to leave it, and still refused to get up and move, but she'd turned around. Half way, at least, to where she was pretty much sort of facing him but still at an angle where the mirror was blocked mostly by the table. All she could see reflected at this angle were the sixty-three ceiling tiles she'd counted before and the dozens that she hadn't.

The view to her was better than the sunrise on one of Sam's early-morning hikes. She enjoyed it, like she enjoyed those first rays of light coming to warm her skin and chase away the chill of the dawn and all the purple in the sky, sitting there holding tight to her knees and rocking gently with her pulse.

There were more questions after those initial ones; most of which the doc would ask, pause for a moment, and when given no reply would ask again. He tried a couple of them more than once, but upon realizing he wouldn't get any responses he stopped trying and just waited. Ashley couldn't hear him, not at first; the only sounds in her ears- in her _mind_ \- things she heard and could never unhear. Things that her not-self kept bringing up again and again and telling her to ' _think about because it was her fault and she didn't deserve to forget them_ '. Emily crying, Sam yelling at Mike, Mike yelling back, Josh screaming, the saw blades buzzing, Mike's gunshot, Chris's gunshot, his boots on the porch, Hannah 'screaming'-

Once she'd heard them they clung to her, tormenting and with nothing better to do than _take_ and _drain_ whatever was left of her - whatever was left of the girl or the person who wasn't even a person anymore who had once been Ashley, bit by bit. Intent on leaving her nothing but a miserable pile of remorse and self-hate, unforgiving even to herself for what she'd done but what wasn't even really her fault. She wondered if this was what murderers felt - or refused to feel, under the guise of insanity. Wondered that, if they ever cracked, if they cracked like she was.

If they cracked like Josh had.

One in.

She counted the ticks of the clock on the back of her hand and wondered if they were so loud to the doc as they were to her. Perhaps they weren't so deafening after all.

One out.

Every question she realized he phrased not like a question, but a suggestion. Starting them all off with 'if you want's and 'could you tell me's, and more 'please's and 'thank you's than she was sure she'd ever heard come from one person in the span of fifty-something minutes before. And he was always careful to give ample time between suggestions for her to answer, or for her to decide if she could answer. If she couldn't, he'd still wait and let her think about it before saying anything more. Here they were now though still on the topic of Catsby, because it was the first question she'd given more than a one-word response to. She learned that he had three dogs, a cat, and two parakeets his wife had brought home on a whim one day.

Ash hadn't meant to because she really did appreciate it after understanding what he was trying to do, but she still felt a sort of bitterness towards Dr. Huang's impersonator, no matter how pretty and soft-spoken and nice he was, because he hadn't seen it. He hadn't been forced to listen to that demon _berating_ him, telling him that all the problems in the world were only there because of _him_ , and that she shouldn't have needed to tell him all of this at all. That he should have just put himself in the ground without needing her help because ' _that's where he belonged and everyone would be better off_ '. He hadn't gotten to go through the bullying and the blame, coming from this thing that didn't even know what it meant to be sorry or to know it was _'wrong',_ because it didn't even know what remorse was but sure as Hell knew what to say to carve it out of someone.

The guilt was a lead weight in her chest where Ash was sure her heart had been before it'd up and skipped town, not exactly wanting to be affiliated with her anymore, and it had been what'd pulled her back out of her chair and down into that dark pit that she wasn't getting out of. She'd killed Emily. Mike had pulled the trigger but she'd helped. He'd pulled the trigger because he _'wasn't'_ any better at being scared than she was. People don't really know what kind of people they are until they're scared to the point where they have to decide if being considered a person is worth dying or not.

One, that was a little more shaky than Ash would have liked, in.

She just let the doc keep talking, holding onto her knees and still tapping the seconds on her glove. She used to pride herself on being a pretty okay person; it was what she told herself when the rest of her wasn't convinced. On those quiet nights when she thought too much.

One, forced to steady with the weight of a gun on it's back, out. Don't think about it.

She wondered what she could tell herself now. Wondered if it was more hassle than she was worth for long enough to inhale and then let it out again once more, slow and heavy and shockingly straight. She stopped rocking and pulled Matt's sleeve over her eyes for the millionth time with another sniffle, the crying having stopped by now though her face was a mess, the make-up she knew she'd put on before leaving home probably either all over her face or all rubbed off at this point. Sure would have been nice to actually be able to look in a mirror and see her eyes but honestly the idea of what she knew was still waiting kept her from feeling too concerned about fixing her face at the moment. She did glance up though when her hands found each other again, up to the table and the ceiling tiles and the not-so-grey brick of the walls.

The little red light on the camera wasn't blinking anymore, had not-mom turned it off? Ash glanced over to the door and kind of wished she was still standing there, pancakes or no pancakes, offering those mom eyes because she maybe actually missed them a little. Maybe she could even get a smile, too, if not-mom had one of those. Ash hadn't seen one yet, but considering everything else she assumed it probably would have been just so sugary sweet as Sam's.

Dr. Huang had quieted down and unpaused his psyche evaluation, just watching her as she looked around, no longer freaking out and on the verge of making herself pass out. That was as good a sign as any that the attack had finally run it's course, if an attack was what they could call it. She'd wondered this already, but hadn't been able to come to much of a conclusion because, since they'd started, her attacks had never really come with physical hallucinations in her experience. Never any breezes or people chasing her into corners; none that were just so vivid and lifelike and just plain _demented_ as this one. It felt like an attack but it... didn't? Usually she could just tuck herself away in bed beneath the blankets, or someplace small where no one but herself could fit and so no one could get to her. After all, she was a firm believer in the whole 'what you can't see can't hurt you' thing, and if it couldn't fit in the room (or the closet or under the covers or even in a suitcase on one particularly bad day) with her then that was even better; it'd worked when she was seven and every night since. She wasn't used to being unable to hide; wasn't used to having something to physically hide _from_.

Her train of quiet thought was broken when she looked back to Jess's favorite SVU character as he began to pick himself up. Possibly tired of that itching paranoia that his fancy pants were gonna get ruined, Ash thought, though he didn't seem so vain as to allow that kind of thing to bother him. Before he was all the way on his feet though he offered his hands to her, turned up as an open invitation that she could feel free to reject. "Think you'd like to get up off the floor now?"

Shame. She was actually kind of enjoying not listening to him talk about one of his retrievers liking to steal the tv remote and channel surf when he and his wife were trying to watch something. In fact, she was so busy thinking about how much she'd been enjoying not listening that she'd forgotten what getting up meant until she'd already taken his hands and was being pulled to her feet. Unfortunately, it wasn't the realization that her shoulder still hurt.

Before she was even all the way up right her eyes had found her boots again and Dr. Huang's shoes as well, equally as fancy as the rest of him, and her whole self went tense. Needless to say he noticed when he led her over to her chair, able to feel just how stiff she'd gone when he had to pull a hand away to reach down and pick it up off the ground where she'd knocked it. "What's wrong?" He asked, because she probably looked like she was desperately trying to _not_ witness a murder and end up in witness protection with the way she was avoiding everything but the floor.

Which... she was, actually. Her own murder had been tugging at her heels all night and she was pretty sure it was waiting just across the table now.

Acting natural, however, was hard to do, especially when standing there covered in blood and trying not to let your reflection that wasn't actually your reflection eat your soul wasn't exactly 'natural'. That tile on the ground that she'd weighed down with all of her guilt and crying earlier was likely on the verge of cracking now as it took on the fear in that stare she gave it now. That shit was starting to weigh a Hell of a lot more than a ton.

Dr. Huang tugged his hands away gently at first when he was able to get Ash to sit, but she didn't want to let go. Her grip tightened just enough to keep them from pulling away and he didn't fight it, instead letting his own relax again and hold hers back. Her fingers were still like ice but the rest of her wasn't shaking so much anymore, not to him. The tremors in her legs and hands weren't so apparent on the outside but to her they were more than enough to wrack her on the inside, violently trying to shake loose what screws the doc had worked so hard the last hour just managing to keep tightened so that she'd stay together.

He'd caught the way she'd looked down only when she'd just glimpsed right past him, though. For a moment he thought that maybe it was the camera throwing her nerves on the fritz again, even if it was off, but he realized easy enough that it wasn't. Even to him, he found that the mirror was... a little more disconcerting than he remembered it to be. Maybe not to the point where it should have been causing her so much discomfort because the walls were the same shade of grey and the corners of the ceiling weren't any darker, but it did make it seem like the whole room was a good two times it's actual size. He tried not to grimace for her sake and knelt down to her level where Ashley had been growing increasingly more familiar with their shoes.

Since she still didn't want to let go, he lifted one of her hands with his when he had to use it, reaching up just enough to point over the table to the mirror she refused to look at. "Is that making you uncomfortable?" He asked. She didn't need to look up to know he wasn't talking about the camera, and she wasn't going to. "Is it making you scared?" Her small fingers squeezing his and the way her face twisted up again to keep from crying were the only answers he needed. "Do you want to go to a different room that doesn't have one of those?"

Ashley stared at the hands holding hers. Yes. Fucking yes, that would be _fantastic_. Not-Ash hadn't exactly come back for her in the past few-minutes-short-of-an-hour-ish that she assumed they'd been talking, but like Hell she was trusting the bitch to stay gone. Not after that low-fucking blow of defying the laws of a 'proper' attack and actually trying to _physically come at her_. Rude as fucking Hell. She hadn't earned the trust required to wield a butter knife let alone what was required to keep existing. Willing herself to stand was a little more difficult than her mind may have wanted, though, Ash realized, when all the reply she could give was something that probably couldn't have even passed as a whine in the back of her throat.

One in, Ashley. Don't freak out again. Freak out when you're home and you're done talking and you can hide where nothing can find you.

She wondered if they had any whine-interpreters here, because even she wasn't sure what that was meant to be. A 'yes' had been intended. Hell, an intelligible word or maybe even string of words had been intended, and that wasn't either. He was gonna get one though, she wasn't gonna let her consciousness just sit there in the corner of her mind clinging to a wall afraid to move. Before she could prod it out of said corner though and get her lips around the words, Dr. Huang had already had too much time to sit and look, at her and to the mirror and back again.

"There's nothing there, Ashley. Just the room. Just me, and just you."

Yeah, that was the problem. _'Your'_ reflection didn't want you dead and in the ground.

Dr. Huang sighed. It wasn't one of those fed up kind of sighs though, more like one of those 'what do I do now' kind of sighs. Ash was still kind of worried that it was a fed up kind of sigh though, but she was sure Dr. Huang wasn't the type to give those. "If I promise you there's nothing there, will you look up at it? If you still want, we'll move to a different room."

Hell no. Ash might have liked him and he might have been pretty and he might have also not looked like some kind of liar but _Hell_ no.

Yet she still found herself nodding.

Fuck.

Her grip on his fingers tightened but he must've had a pretty high pain tolerance because it had to be hurting something fierce. Ash still hadn't let that breath she'd took in out again so there was no taking another to steady herself. She felt that chill back in her bones, as her eyes moved towards the mirror and the hair that blocked their view before the rest of her could.

No, no no no no... this was a bad idea. Not-Ash was going to be there again and she was going to be yelling at her and singing at her and trying to shove her down deeper into that pit. Ash wasn't ready to look. Her body was doing whatever the Hell it pleased because her right mind was shrinking into that corner where she'd left it but she didn't want to look. She felt every pop in her chilled bones when her head picked itself up, and she wanted to close her eyes when she saw her beanie across the room, and her hair under it and Matt's letterman and-

And... her eyes.

The shivering in her fingers stopped and her grip went slack, but she held onto that breath like it was the last one she'd ever take. There weren't black pits ready to pull her into Hell burrowed deep into her skull, there were just those droopy... bloodshot, green eyes. One of them was still swollen from Josh socking her in the face but that was the only black there, aside from the remnants of smudged eyeliner and what was supposed to be waterproof mascara, and even it was looking more purple now than black. Dr. Huang had promised and he was apparently a man of his word because the only ones in the mirror were him and the reflection of herself that she was sure the cab she'd taken earlier had driven off with. _She_ wasn't there. That demon, with the soul-sucking eyes and the metaphorical shovel she had used to dig her very real grave, was gone.

"Gone?"

Shit.

Not-Ash wasn't there but apparently neither was Ash's filter because apparently her thoughts had been a little more audible than expected again. But some part of her- or, maybe most of her at this point - didn't seem to give too much of a shit right now, too absorbed in the shock that came with realizing how lucky she was to be alive to care that Dr. Huang had heard. "Who is? Was there someone else there?"

She sucked in her bottom lip and bit down on it hard as every bit of relief she wanted to feel came pounding at her chest, to find the heart they knew hadn't just stopped beating and died in there, and at her lungs to get her to let out that breath. She didn't know which emotion to really settle on though; joy and relief that not-Ash was _gone_ and she was finally _safe_ , or the fear she'd grown so close to over this past night that she wanted to cling to even now because it'd been doing its damnedest to keep her alive and hadn't ~~yet~~ failed. She pulled her hands out of the doctor's and the cuffs of the letterman swallowed them up. "Are we done?..." Dr. Huang had opened his mouth to say more when Ashley didn't answer, but she had unintentionally cut him off because he wasn't getting an answer anyways. She didn't care, and apparently he didn't mind because he stopped himself and waited. "Can... Can I go?..." It was wishful thinking, she knew that much.

His lips pressed flat as he debated on which answer to give that was less likely to end up with added distress. "No, not just yet. I'm sorry."

Wishful thinking.

"Let me tell you what I'd like to do, though." He started again just as quickly as he'd stopped. At least he wasn't pressing for an answer about her not-self. "The police still need to hear your side of the story, but you don't have to tell them everything tonight."

"But I can't go home." She cut him off again, but patience was a virtue and this man was a saint if she'd ever seen one. She could see him chewing thoughtfully on his cheek as he came up with the least-devastating way to break it to her, but he was as good at his job as he was at taking care of his hair because he was careful not to spend too much time letting the quiet build up.

He shook his head for her, "No." He said, slow and cautious and sounding a little more like not-mom every time he opened his mouth. A moment was spent gauging her reaction and when she didn't start crying, only let her hands find each other and make a tunnel from the letterman cuffs, he kept talking. "But how about a break for now?" He suggested. "After all of this, you were going to be taken into Calgary. There's a hospital there and you can get cleaned up and get some sleep, and they can make sure you're not hurt. I know you've been looked at already but our medics here aren't doctors. I think that maybe it would be good to stop for now, I can talk to them about it and maybe you can try again tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow..." That really did mean she wasn't going to get to go home. With the way he was talking about it, home seemed more than just a couple hours off no matter what she picked. He couldn't see it but she was pulling at her nails with nervous anticipation, chipping away at what was left of the French tips, brows pressed hard like she was in physical pain just from her thoughts and the realization that she wasn't getting out of here so quick as she'd hoped. She shook her head. "I don't want want to wait until tomorrow. I just... I just want to say it all and go..."

This time when he frowned she could see it, and when he sighed it was quiet and it was less of a 'what do I do now' kind of sigh than before, but still not a fed up kind of sigh. More like he'd just really been hoping she'd go along with his plan of letting her get a bit of rest first until her mental state wasn't so fragile and ready to shatter at the smallest trigger. She offered an apology to him. Telepathically, of course, though she wished she could have said it out loud. He deserved them like not-mom had, and he looked like he could have used it too.

But Dr. Huang was far too professional and far too nice to let her see that disappointment (though she already had), so he managed a practiced smile that wasn't so fake as one might have expected and went to stand again, "So you're sure you want to keep speaking with Ms. Cline? We could sit and talk for a while longer if you'd like to do that first." He offered.

It was nice that he was willing to stay with her and maybe keep talking about his wife's parakeets being way too big of fans of Days of Our Lives, and listen to her talk about Catsby a bit too and how fat cats were the best cats because that was always one of her favorite topics, but when she shook her head this time she'd actually meant to do it.

"Alright..." Dr. Huang said slowly. That sigh was in his head this time just for him to hear, but Ash still heard it anyways; could see it on his face. "Would you be okay waiting here by yourself for a minute?"

Ashley croaked out what probably couldn't have been considered a yes at all, still somewhat distrusting of the mirror and not-Ash possibly not _staying_ gone, but Dr. Huang took it as the go ahead to leave her alone again. Probably a master hum, whine, _and_ cry-interpreter thanks to his job. He gave her another one of those practiced smiles that still managed to look pretty genuine to her and turned to go and open the door.

"Annie..."

The lights of the next room were so bright, flooding in through the cracked door as he stepped out part of the way and brightening up the walls to an even lighter shade of grey. He was still holding the knob with one hand while waving who Ash assumed was the sheriff over with the other, she could just hear his voice with how soft he kept it. Her hands pulled the cuffs of Matt's jacket apart again and slipped out of the makeshift tunnel, gripping the edge of the table so she could lean over as well as she was able to try and peek out.

"...seems mostly alright now..." Dr. Huang was pretty and all, but she really wished he would move over a bit. She wasn't paying attention to his words so much as what was out there in the hall. There wasn't anything really, not from this angle, but it was bright and there were chairs lined up against the far wall. "...dazed..." There went God being a cheapskate again, holding back on the x-ray vision now too. Ash's hearing seemed to work just as well as it had been though, and she heard a couple of voices though not many. "...Too much stress..." Dammit doc, _please_ move. "Just take it easy, she should be able to finish..."

Ash thought for a moment that she saw her dad's face, sitting there in one of those chairs, but even a Concorde jet probably couldn't have flown that fast. And either way, once the doctor's tall and fancily-dressed figure was gone it was replaced immediately with the not-so-familiar-as-she-remembered figure of not-mom. Not so familiar because she was so much less bulky with her jacket off. Like, ridiculously so. Ash didn't doubt that she could flip a grown man onto his ass if one came at her but at the same time she deduced that the backstory she'd put together for her not-mom had been blown out of the water a little because there was no way she'd had any kind of potential kids before.

Whatever her actual familial situation was though, not-mom wasn't about to dive into a conversation about it as she pulled the door closed behind her and the bright light and voices were shut out. Ashley straightened back up to watch her as she sat down. Aside from the lack of a bulkier upper-body, there was something more that was off about her. Those concerned mom eyes she'd been giving Ashley since the beginning were still there, but there was something a little more heavy weighing in them now. She looked... well, concerned, yeah. But there was more than that. Ashley wasn't sure what it was. Worry, maybe? It was sort of like 'disappointed', but with a little less annoyance and a little more fear.

"You were gone for almost an hour." She told her, unbeknownst to the both of them that the doctor had already told Ash the same thing only to have it go right over her head. The tone was kind enough, though a drastic decrease from how Dr. Huang had been speaking to her, and something about it made Ash fidget until her toes began to tap against the inside of her boots. She sounded a lot like Emily did when Matt or Jess or anyone else tried to keep secrets from her when she knew they were hiding them and it made her nervous again without even having to try. She had that little pad of paper in her hands but a blue pen this time, it'd been black before, and the camera behind her was left alone for now as well. The lack of its blinking red light above her shoulder was sort of comforting. "My friend there, Dr. Young, says you want to keep going?"

"Yeah..." Her throat was dry. Ashley let go of her grip on the table, her fingers retreating into the sleeves of the letterman, and she squeezed her hands between her thighs to warm them up again. 'Annie'/not-mom looked up at her from the notepad again at the sound of her voice - she frowned and Ash wasn't sure her brows could have looked anymore sad unless Say Something just happened to start blaring in her ears again.

"He would really like it if we tried tomorrow."

Well, it wasn't Say Something but there was the trademark 'would you please do this for me' tone that Ash was sure every parent in the world had used before. Tiny figure aside, there was apparently still hope for potential not-siblings.

She shook her head, though. Sorry, not-mom, she wasn't doing this for you. Ash didn't know how many nights she was going to have to stay locked up here in what had just yesterday been the most docile country in the world according to most of the rest of it, and maybe one extra day of sleeping in a hospital bed wouldn't have killed her, but that was a ridiculously massive, Godzilla maybe. Whereas being shut inside her own house hundreds of miles away behind a deadbolt and a dad and a very fat cat was a much smaller maybe. Ash had been deciding on and off for the past twelve-ish hours whether she wanted to live or die (or float around in limbo haunting her asshole friends), but was pretty settled by now after the whole fiasco that the last hour consisted of that she was leaning further towards wanting to count herself as a part of the 'mostly alive and still kicking-ish' category. So she wasn't risking that one more night and the possibility of being murdered via giant ocean lizard, not if she could avoid it.

So, instead of letting her thoughts get run off the rails again at how Dr. Young was a much more fitting name for the doctor who most definitely wasn't a Chinese man, Ash decided she was going to be more forward about this and plow through it. Though, being real here, that was a pretty fat fuckin' chance because being forward was about as far from her area of expertise as it got. But still, she put on her best 'determined' face (which held more in common with the 'devoid of all hope' look she wore already than she wished it did), and resisted that urge to go full potato-mode in Matt's jacket again. And, honestly, she would have put her finger on it if she could have found the damn thing but something about catching movement over not-mom's shoulder only to look into the mirror and see an actual pair of eyes that were only dark from the lack of sleep and one very nasty bruise... well, it... it offered a little less comfort than she'd hoped it would. Before, she could at least _see_ the thing trying to sign her name on Satan's visitor log, and she may have been glad that not-Ash wasn't there, but at the same time that meant she could have been _anywhere_.

A chill ran through her and Ash shivered. She wondered how not-mom wasn't freezing without her jacket when she was turning to ice again even with Matt's letterman, and she wanted to look behind her just to make sure that they were the only two in the room. But she fought that urge because there was no voice in her ear so she decided to trust that there would have been nothing back there but an analog clock, trying and failing to remind her to exhale, and the slightly-lighter grey of a brick wall.

Real or not, in sight or not, whatever, Ashley wasn't going to think about it now. No, she'd said she was going to plow through this and dangit she was gonna haul ass if she could. Emily wasn't coming to mind again and, for the time being, her memory shoved the entire thing right to the back of the 'things to keep you doubting you're a person' queue, a list it gladly let her go through at night before bed and only then and other such gravely inopportune moments. Just a precaution to protect itself going off the deep end again. It was like that entire side of the story and everything before it had just been temporarily blocked out for now, and Ashley didn't linger on the oddity of it being gone. Not right then; not when telling it was over and done and she didn't need it weighing on her yet again. It came back later but for now it was gone like it had been after actually happening. She just didn't think about it.

"He said that I wasn't gonna get to go home after this..." Ash said when she found her words again, but when they came out a little more scratchy than she'd expected she cleared her throat and tried to sit a little straighter. "I mean I, uh... I didn't think I was gonna, but just... Just, y'know, how long? Exactly... Do you know?"

"Well," Not-mom huffed out a breath of whatever she'd been doing out in the hall for the past hour, and Ash realized that her own lungs were still clinging onto the one she'd taken. It'd gone stale by now. "That depends. We still have to see what we can find on the mountain, and of course more than just myself will have to go over what you've told me today. So it could be tomorrow, could be the day after..." She wasn't exactly helping Ash to breathe here, "Everything we've gotten so far and all the info we find will be transfered to Los Angeles either way though, so whatever happens it likely won't be more than two or three days."

She went silent again after looking up from that notepad for the nth time and seeing that Ash was ignoring the clock and the ticks she was supposed to be counting and was forgetting to exhale.

"I'm sorry," She didn't sound very sorry. Ash was becoming more and more sure that that look weighing in those mom-eyes was worry. "I know this is hard for you."

Yeah, no, definitely worry. Maybe not for Ash but for _something_. That wasn't even 'mom of the friend group' mom voice, that was just straight up 'don't be scared honey it was just a bad dream' mom voice. Ash felt like she was a five-year-old getting tucked into bed for the second time in one night after waking up screaming from a nightmare. That'd been her dad's job growing up, sure, but somehow it still felt the same, aside from the lack of a hand petting her hair and a second or third bedtime story at two AM. No... just cold fingers pulling too harshly at each other in her lap this time, and the monsters had been far more than just a nightmare.

Sheriff Cline reached behind her and turned the camera back on, letting it boot up while the silence persisted and Ashley reluctantly accepted the apology. If this not-mother/daughter relationship was gonna work and if Ash wanted any kind of a shot at those pancakes, then she didn't want things surviving on passive-aggression. "Take another minute if you need to," Not-mom offered as the little red light began blinking again, "but can you tell me what happened after Emily?"

The sound of Em's name out loud again was kind of more or less a punch to the heart. How that metaphorical fist had found it locked up and hidden somewhere in her chest was beyond her, but she was a little relieved to be able to feel it again either way. But, there were more important things to do, and continuing with what probably couldn't have been considered 'fun' with all the metaphors, Ash cheated right at the longest metaphorical stop light she was sure she'd ever been lawfully inclined to metaphorically stop at, and got her metaphorical story-car going again.

She had been so close to Mike at first, when he'd still been the one standing between them and a potential monster backing up onto the counter, but when he so much as looked at her after firing she backed up liked some kicked dog, nearly stumbling over her own boots until the chain links of the gate rattled against her back. It was over, they were safe now... They were safe, she couldn't hurt them. That was what he kept murmuring, breathless and shaking and trying to convince himself of that fact more than he was them. She felt Sam grabbing her hand and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and that look on her face... She was terrified. She wasn't crying anymore but she was terrified, yet at the same time Sam managed to _stare Michael down_ , looking like she'd tear his throat out if he came close. "He left..." She explained. She didn't sound so scratchy this time but could still feel it on her throat. "Mike went to get the key from Josh for the cable car. So we could leave."

Ash thought back to when she picked up that old guy's journal after he was gone; sitting at the desk and finally flipping through it like she wished so many times that she'd done just five minutes earlier. It had everything she'd ever read about the wendigo and more. So much more. Their patterns, their behaviors... the different noises they made and what they meant, and of course what they ate. It was in depth and _real_ , whereas the research she'd skimmed online and in books at the library had just been stories - vague myths and Native American folklore told by people who'd grown up with the legends and the fear of it under their beds as children, but this man had _lived_ it. Lived the nightmare. Voluntarily. And he had sketches of them as well - how he got so close to be able to record all of the details from their shriveled ears and missing lips down to individual scarring on some of them she didn't know, but she also didn't want to find out. Sam came and took it from her though when she pointed out... something; whatever it was it had blanked itself out too. She scanned the pages and Ashley wasn't sure what she'd read but suddenly Sam had grabbed her hand again and said they were leaving. That they 'had to catch Mike'.

That time that sheriff Cline had given her to get past Emily... she wished it could've been more. Wished that that few minutes short of an hour had been a few minutes short of a couple of years instead, though even then she doubted she'd be over it. She was so calm after they started back up again - quiet, but calm - like she'd been in the very start, but before she went into too much detail she went through the next terrifying twenty minutes in her head first, the ones that followed their being rushed out of the cage and heading _deeper_ , finding that manhole and being left behind...

Her internal radio was no longer picking up all of Hell's stations, but her toes had once again found something to begin tapping with. She heard no words and no music, and figured it was probably just her pulse they were humming with now, but whatever it was she just let them keep on and did her best to ignore it. She tried to force out that stale air that'd collected in her lungs so she could take another breath and slow them down, tacking out the seconds on the back of her hand again and clenching her fingers tight over and over again like all she was missing was a little stress ball.

Sam had held onto her hand the whole time after getting her up and out of that chair, walking too quick for Ash to keep up unless she was pulling her along. Honestly, though keeping her feet underneath her was difficult, she was so grateful because even with a flashlight the tunnels were dark and the pipes above their heads creaked and groaned and rattled, just as the lodge did when a strong gust hit it, and she didn't want to be left even a few paces behind. She was, though, when Sam's hand was gone and she headed down the manhole last and had to stop to pull the grate shut. Sam left her- it was just a straight shot mostly, she wasn't afraid of Ashley getting lost. But she still left her.

It hadn't been scary until Ash realized just how heavy the cover to the manhole was and how those footsteps were getting further and further away as she tried to drag the heavy block of iron across the huge opening, her hands trembling as the anxiety grew. She got it done, sure, but it'd taken her longer than she'd expected it would and by then her breathing was rampant and her fingers were scraped and red from slipping off of the iron a few too many times, and she just about fell off the ladder trying to climb down it as quick as she was able. But it was all for nought, because when she was standing on solid ground again and had the flashlight on and pointing forward, the only footsteps she heard were her own. She'd called out, but was surprised she'd even been able to hear herself with how quiet it'd been. She'd seen that monster outside of the lodge- she didn't want to see it again, but that silence was just _inviting_ it to skitter along the walls and break it.

By that point in the night she was no stranger to absolute _suffocating_ fear, and though she had always been the chicken when it came to pretty much everything - from the dark and thunder, and being chased even just by a friend; down to the smallest of things like bugs and needles - she'd never quite felt that fear of being alone before then. And she was now. Completely and perpetually _alone_. There was no Chris and no Scooby Gang, no Sam to hold her hand, no more Matt for piggy-backs, no Em to fill the silence or Jess for hugs and cheek kisses, or Josh's laughing at his own jokes... And definitely no Michael.

She tried to swallow the panic before it could swallow her; fought to keep it down and keep her legs steady as she took those first few steps, clutching the 'M' of the letterman as tightly as almost numb fingers could allow and pressing on her chest to maybe try and slow her heart. She didn't call out anymore, the map had said there were no detours and if she hurried she'd catch up. Just a couple of turns, a couple of puddles to almost trip her up, and she'd definitely be okay-...

But she wasn't. It was supposed to be but it wasn't okay and it wasn't a straight shot... 'Supposed' was just a smaller word for 'probably, but given it's you you're shit outta luck, bud'. So there was one fork- _just one_ , and Ashley stopped at it and she hesitated. She wished she hadn't. She wished she'd just have kept going straight because that was _obviously_ the way to go. _Obviously_ the longer path that would have taken her straight to the sanatorium and straight to what friends she had left, but she didn't. Because that echoing, ghost of a voice stopped her; lured her like a siren and she followed. Just like when she'd heard Josh screaming from the kitchen, she foolishly threw caution right into the damn wind and dropped down the wrong path.

All because she knew what she heard.

 _Thought_  she knew what she heard.

Because it was Jess. It was Jess... she'd _heard_ Jess.

But it wasn't- It couldn't have been her. Mike said she was dead, said he'd chased her and she was gone. It couldn't have been Jess, but it was. It was _her_ voice echoing around the tunnel like a guide, _her_ sobbing that grew increasingly distraught the closer she got, **_her_ ** banging on that trapdoor with enough force to throw Ashley's cold fingers off of the wood more than once when she'd touched it, even when she'd put all her weight on it. It... It was...

It wasn't Jess...

Yet, there was still that 'what if'. There always would be. Mike had said she'd died, but he hadn't _seen_ it. He hadn't seen her after the fall, only assumed she was gone since, as he'd put it, the hole was so deep that if he'd dropped a ten pound stone down it he wouldn't have heard it hit the bottom. He'd said she was breathing-

_What if?_

What if he was wrong and the fall hadn't killed her? What if it _was_ her, hurt and scared just like the rest of them, half-naked and freezing and trying to get out but Ashley's fear and Mike's assurance in her head had kept her from unlocking the damn panel and saving her? She could have pulled her out of that hole and hugged her, could have brought her to the others, but instead she couldn't do anything but cry; cry and move from just pressing the wood down with arms hardly steady enough to hold her shoulders up to kneeling on top of it with all of her weight until the banging stopped and there were no more pleas for help.

Maybe... maybe she had killed her. And it really had been her beneath the trap door and she had just left her to die. But she wouldn't have- she... she couldn't have... could she? Jess, who would always come over unannounced no matter the time of day (or night), either to escape her brothers and get some quiet at Ashley's, or because she knew how her friend got when her dad worked long nights and the house was too quiet and empty for too long. They'd just be texting and suddenly she'd be at her doorstep, all ready to coddle her cat and vent about her day, and complain about her brothers hiding her make-up and stealing her phone but also always ready to listen. She'd always been good at that - at listening. Even when no one was talking she knew what they were saying. Or at least how that was with Ashley when they were skyping and she'd suddenly ask her to come over and hang with her and maybe her mom; know what it was like to have annoying little siblings for a bit.

Jess was so much smarter than everyone gave her credit for. Maybe she wasn't book smart but she still had a brain and still knew how to use it because she was perceptive. They'd been close enough to know when it really counted to listen, and this... this wasn't Jess. This wasn't her friend, slamming on the trapdoor and repeating the same short phrases and breathless words over and over and not replying to Ashley calling her name again and again a few moments ago.

She was glad that there was no not-Ash in the mirror to whisper Jess/not-Jess's terrified whimpers and crying to her again, because she wouldn't have been able to handle it. She still heard them in her head, but without that demon to repeat them they were much more vague and quiet, harder for her to really relive. Her heart didn't jump at the memory this time no matter how much it hurt.

She remembered holding in the sobs and staying so still even after the silence had remained steady for longer than a few minutes. She couldn't move. Moving was how they knew you were there- moving got you killed. Her breathing was quick, choked, but she didn't make a sound, not until she heard the echo of water dropping to the ground from somewhere high up become more than just white noise. Until the buzzing in her ears broke and she let out that whimpering gasp and let her face sink into her knees. It may have been Jess, it may have been something else, but as she wept she muttered her apologies to whatever was on the other side much like she had tried to do for Hannah and Beth at the séance, mostly inaudible as her hunched position made it difficult to breathe let alone speak.

Even in her rattled state though she knew she couldn't linger, lest the banging return and that voice come back, and so she'd climbed to shaking legs and stumbled as quickly as she was able past the bolted cellar door and through the rest of the short tunnel, wiping at her face as best she could with a glove already covered in dried and chipping blood. She remembered Sam holding onto her after that, trying to ask what had happened but Ashley couldn't have answered her because she wasn't even sure herself. She didn't want to know though, not really; not then. She didn't want to chance having to go back there, didn't want Sam to try and find out for herself. And so aside from the rangers she would never tell anyone, not for a long time at least. About the trap door or hearing Jessica's voice crying out in pain, so filled with fear; so real, so terrified, so... 'convincing'...

They told her later that they had never found Jess either, just like they had never found Matt, and never found Josh... Some part of her still tried to insist that it hadn't been her in the tunnel, _couldn't_ have been her. Because no matter how those self-defense classes had shown her how to clock a grown man in the face and knock him on his ass, Jess wasn't strong enough to bash so hard on that panel that Ashley would have to _fight_ to keep it down.

Yet along with that doubt came a weight in her chest that refused to lighten _because_ they hadn't found her. They hadn't found her body. She could have been anywhere on the mountain, in the mines... She could be in that tunnel, under the trapdoor. Right now, laying there cold and dead because Ashley hadn't opened the damn door. Because Ashley had been too scared for her own life to save her friend's. Even months later she would never be past it, because she would never know for sure. Not until they came back with a body found on the opposite side of the mountain and proved to her with facts and logic that she could not _possibly_ have been in the tunnels beneath the lodge.

Not-mom made no move to comfort her and Ash for once didn't care to stop and take another breather. She didn't think that it could be the shock kicking in at this point, but whatever it was she hoped it held up because couldn't feel much of anything. Not in the realm of emotion, anyways- her shoulder still hurt plenty. She was sad, but she was too tired to cry and the tears didn't even threaten to build up this time.

There was that soft look in not-mom's face and that sympathetic tone in her voice still, but that was all the charity she offered. All the courtesy she could spare before speaking up again to ask more questions. "So you heard your friend's voice. Jessica's?" Yes, yes, Jessica's. She'd told her that already. She'd told her it was Jess and she'd also told her what Mike had said had happened. But just to clarify, "She fell into the mines, according to Michael, didn't she?" That's what Mike had said. Said he'd chased her and she fell and he couldn't follow. She was in the mines. The mines ran all through the mountain; could have run right under the lodge. Right under the tunnel- "You said you heard her but you didn't answer? Didn't see her? Are you sure it was h-"

"I _heard_ Jessica..." Ash cut the woman off- knew already what she'd say. She knew plenty well by now that they weren't going to believe half of her story. A day ago she wouldn't have believed her either. "I don't know _how_ or _why_ she was down there but I **_know_ ** I heard her... I- I heard... I heard her _voice_. I heard Jess's voice..." In the start she'd snapped, but she'd gotten her wish from the beginning because she wasn't angry, she just wanted to keep talking without being interrupted anymore because she wasn't sure how long the momentum from that feeling that could have been shock but probably wasn't was going to last. She didn't want to waste it listening to not-mom or anyone else trying to tell her what she had and hadn't heard. She hadn't wanted to be angry since the start and she wasn't now because she was just clearing things up for the camera.

But as Ash went on, she realized that maybe... maybe she was wrong. She heard what she was saying and realized that maybe she _didn't_ know.

She didn't know that she'd heard Jess. It had been her voice, yeah. Ash knew her voice and could never forget it, heard it almost everyday that they were able to hang out. But that was only her _'voice'_ , and in the journal it had said they could mimic and Ash realized that she _didn't know_. "I... I heard her, but I-... I d- I don't know if it was Jess. I don't know what it was..."

Take one in. Just try. Shaky or not, a breath is a breath.

"If it wasn't Jessica," There was that soft tone again, Ashley couldn't be upset when she heard it and finally her eyes found not-mom's again, "then who was it?" That unmistakable pain shot through her face so clearly and so immediately at the question, the words punching her right in the heart just like hearing Emily's name had, and Ashley bit back her reply, pulling her teeth across her lip to physically keep them from turning on her and spitting out the real answer. She'd more than mentioned the wendigo already. She'd mentioned it so many times; to the rangers who had picked her up in the chopper, to the guy who'd led her through the station, and to the sheriff who sat in front of her now and watched her with those concerned mom eyes that were more than concerned since she'd come back into the room. They were more than concerned because they still had that... that _whatever_ emotion it was that looked kind of like worry but also wasn't, and Ash... she hesitated again.

She wasn't sure when she'd let it out but the air had vacated her chest again and she furrowed her own brows this time, because looking across the table not-mom's eyes actually weren't filled with that concerned mom look, but... something else. It was like she was just waiting now for what she knew she was going to hear. She'd put that notepad down- had flipped it closed and everything and actually hadn't touched it in a few minutes at least. Since Ash had explained that she wasn't the only one of her friends who'd seen or heard or blamed it, the sheriff hadn't exactly brushed the wendigo off and _maybe_ she could have started believing at some point that it was real, but as of yet she hadn't exactly acknowledged it as truth either. But since she'd come back into the room with that look on her face... It had only been a few minutes short of an hour; she wouldn't have had time to go up to the mountain, traipse around a bit, find a wendigo and not be killed, and then make it back with the only casualty being her jacket.

Ashley wasn't wrong before, because that new look that had been stuck on her face when she'd re-entered the room _had_ been worry, but that wasn't all it'd been. No... not-mom was... afraid?

She was certain that she hadn't done too much convincing between now and the last time she'd tried to blame the monster that was definitely real, but the sheriff had definitely heard some kind of something in that almost-hour. Whatever it was, Ash couldn't help but think that maybe not-mom's legs had found their own song to bounce restlessly to because she looked on edge enough. That was until Ash broke eye contact again after what must've been a solid minute or so of just staring. Just processing.

One more breath in. Hold for however many ticks it takes to give a straight answer. Looks like it's more than just your peace of mind on the line here now, Ashley.

"...I don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only about two chapters left, I think. Maybe. I'm not sure if I wanna break 'em up or not so it might just be one? Who knows! C:


	11. The Gay Lady That Went To Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All countries have their unban legends. Can't survive 'em all.
> 
> Have fun living abroad. ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ゛

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, only because it was getting a little long and I had to cut it _somewhere._  
>  Many sorries, but at least that means the next chapter is pretty far along ! C:

While Ashley sat there quietly weighing the pros and cons of the probably quite comfy padded cell that she'd be stuck in later, not-mom had squared her shoulders and that look that Ashley couldn't quite place but was pretty sure was some level of freaked out went away and was replaced by a less-than-convinced grimace.

Parent or not, not-mom's lie detector was as spot on as any. Ashley had lied, sure; of course she knew what that thing in the tunnels had to have been if it wasn't Jessica but, I mean, give her a break here. Damn.

She'd already gone through the disbelief part and knew now that it had all been very much 'real'; had tried denying everything all through the night again and again when things just kept _happening_ , and still was denying the thing about Jessica if she was being honest with herself (which would have canceled out the denial part?)... And of course she'd bargained. Been bargaining all night; for her life, for Chris's and Matt's lives, for Jessica's... but God was a shitty person now and he was a shitty person then, so there was no offering to trade anything she had to go back and slap Josh around a little. And then immediately get him some help, of course.

Then after all that came the guilt, which she was unable to hold the surplus of and was thus dumping it on that poor tile that was metaphorically cracking under the weight of it all.

And, by now, she had accepted things too. Accepted that everyone was dead and gone and she didn't have the ability to travel back in time or blink the bad things out of existence... Any kind of hope for things to get better was a long ways off.

Ash was running out of stages of grief to go through. Fuck whoever said they happened in some kind of particular order because her emotions were all over the place. The only steps left were the anger she was trying to fend off and cover up with exhaustion and hunger, and the depression that she'd been feeling all her life and was sure would stay with her for a long time to come. Honestly, since she hadn't ever actually been without it, she didn't know if she could really count it as a stage. Old friend wasn't ever gonna leave her the Hell alone, and she hadn't expected it to.

Not-mom looked down at the hands she had folded together on the ice block that was a table.

 

> Pros:  
>       -White walls were always bright, and a lot happier than grey ones. Even if they weren't so dark a grey as earlier.  
>       -Pointy objects were a huge no-no in padded rooms. That meant no glass, and no glass meant no mirrors. Right?  
>       -No mirrors meant no gateways to Hell; no gateways to Hell meant no Satan's whispers in her ear.

 

Not-mom definitely had something she wanted to say about Ashley's lying, probably wanted to scold her and send her to her room or something (which, considering it was hundreds of miles away, Ashley wasn't too against this), but going by her face and the way it didn't really know what look it wanted to give, it was apparent that she wasn't sure if she wanted to say said 'something' or not. Still, she was pretty obviously unconvinced, just like Ashley assumed she would be. She was just too nice to admit it. Probably.

Or maybe she just didn't want to sound like a loon, too.

Whatever it was keeping her mouth shut, she didn't ask questions, which was honestly both a bit of a relief and a bit of a concern.

 

> Cons:  
>       -Walls were all the same color when the lights went out.  
>       -No pointy objects meant no pens, no pens meant no writing. What the Hell would she do with her time? Go more crazy?  
>       -Just because not-Ashley wouldn't be there in a mirror staring back at her didn't mean she wouldn't be there.

 

All things considered (and all things probably not considered enough), that comfy padded room was looking less comfy after all.

Not-Ash hadn't ever left her thoughts, but having her just off to the side of the center of her attention made Ashley shiver for the millionth time. She coughed dryly - something to fill the quiet since the questions weren't coming quick enough this time. Not-mom was really looking like she wanted to call in the orderlies, or maybe Ash just thought she looked like that. Her mind was trying to convict her of everything today, so she didn't really want to trust what it thought and what it didn't.

Orderlies or no orderlies, though, what was said was said. Ashley wondered briefly if changing her story so much was gonna get her a cell that was a little less padded and a little more prone to getting her shanked in her sleep by a cell mate who had issues sharing territory. Ashley didn't think she had it in her to start bartering cigarettes for favors and life-insurance in prison, but maybe a reputation as a lunatic _and_ a mass-murderer would gain her a bit of street cred' and keep her at least one level above 'prison bitch', and she figured she could be comfortable there.

Maybe she'd even be able to befriend a contraband smuggler serving life who could protect her, get a job in the library, and do everyones taxes for them. She wasn't much for math or anything, but maybe over the course of seventeen years she'd develop the cojones to break out and run off to Mexico if she made it that long and then she wouldn't need more math skills than it took to calculate the miles between LA and Zihuatanejo. One had to be optimistic about these things.

It was warm in Mexico and Mike had grandparents there from his mom's side that probably wouldn't mind harboring her for a while. She'd already survived a night on a cold dark mountain with a whole posse of wendigo, how bad could a chupacabra be?

Okay, so, _probably_  still pretty bad. Mexico was looking less and less like the ideal spot for permanent vacation to avoid the authorities/orderlies, and maybe Mike's grandparents would have been less inclined to take her in upon learning of Mike's not being very much alive anymore.

Across the table not-mom was looking less inclined to take her in and listen to her woes and make her those pancakes. Ash was getting seriously freaking hungry over here. Nah... instead, not-mom was looking like she could read her thoughts like Sam could, and like she wasn't too fond of having a convict for a not-daughter.

"So you don't know what it was..." While Ash may have been glad to have the silence broken by more than her stomach rumbling menacingly at her, what broke it wasn't even a question this time. This woman was gonna straight-up guilt it out of her, wasn't she? Ashley had been annoyed earlier that she hadn't just come out and called the wendigo a wendigo but now here she sat having just refused to say it herself. Damn, what a hypocrite.

"Sorry..." Yeah, and she really was. Not-mom didn't deserve such a chronic liar for a kid. "That wasn't true. I... I know what it was. I know if it wasn't Jessica it... It had to be one of the wendigo-"

"'One' of the wendigo?" Not-mom questioned, interrupting her. "There were more of them?"

Ash didn't answer. She looked down at the water bottle still sitting half-empty and a little crushed in front of her. Thinking about taking another drink wasn't making her sick anymore, but she wasn't about to risk it. "I know I sound like a nut case," She admitted, because there was no use lying if it was just gonna make her feel bad. So she decided she'd try to resign herself to her fate a little and just look forward to being best buds with Morgan Freeman down in Mexico. "But I... I don't want you guys just writing that down and then trying to say that nothing I'm explaining is making sense. 'Cause then you'll claim that Josh and Mike just lost it and went on a killing spree when they _didn't_..." Her voice grew quieter the more she spoke and the more she realized that being resigned to her fate was a little tougher than she'd anticipated (even though she'd anticipated it'd be pretty damn tough to begin with), and she also realized that what she was saying probably would have happened even if she _wasn't_ sounding like such a nut case.

"Ashley, this isn't some crooked-cop show..."

Ash's eyes peaked up across the table again. Shit, it wasn't? Well Hell, everything she'd assumed up until then must have been ass backwards. Was she gonna get waffles after everything instead? She'd settle for waffles. So long as they had pecans and were shaped like Mickey Mouse or Texas or something equally as ridiculous. No offense or anything, but not-mom's pancakes probably couldn't have beaten Sam's anyways. No one's could have beaten Sam's, and Sam's pancakes were _vegan_ , right down to the damn chocolate chips. How the Hell she managed to make them so delicious was just another one of the infinite great mysteries of the universe.

"Sense or no sense, what you tell us is still important." Not-mom tried to assure her with that voice that was sweet, but not as sickeningly so as she'd been imagining, "If you really believe that what you're saying happened up there... Well, I can't promise you that absolutely no one is going to write it off, but we'll still be thinking about it while we look into things and search for your friends." Hard to believe, but Ash would buy it. "From what you've told us, Josh didn't hurt anyone, and Michael..." At the sound of how heavy that sigh she breathed out must've been with the weight of having to deal with her, Ashley wondered if not-mom found thinking to be just as exhausting as she did. She was eternally grateful either way, because she didn't elaborate on the 'Michael' bit there. "...It doesn't explain Jessica or everyone else who we haven't found yet. We're not labeling anyone as anything if we don't have a solid case for it."

Ashley was a bit surprised with herself when she felt a smile that wasn't out of spite, or brought on because of how ridiculously cliché and B-movie-esque their night had been, pull it's way across her lips. She wasn't sure if she totally believed what not-mom was saying, because it sure felt like a cop show to her still, but just hearing that, at the very least, _she_ wasn't gonna disregard Ash's story... it made her _actually_ feel some kind of better for the first time in a while. It was a pleasant surprise that she hadn't been expecting, feeling that weight in her chest and on that tile lighten a little, and she let her hands gradually come out of hiding in the cuffs of the letterman. She felt like she wanted to cry again, but it wasn't the burning sort of cry this time, and when she sniffled and ran a tired hand over her eyes they weren't wet.

"There were a lot more than just one." She went on to explain, feeling a newfound sense of charity that came with the realization that smiling wasn't so hard as thinking was. That smile had flickered and was gone now, but the bottle on the table wasn't looking half empty anymore. She let her hands join not mom's on the ice block and prodded idly at its plastic with her fingers. "That journal said that the guy with the flamethrower caught five or six of them, because you're not supposed to kill them or... or they'll just... find someone else to turn into one of them, or something. They were all locked up but they got out and they were in the tunnels, and if Jess was down there they probably got her..."

Yeah, not-mom's words were reassuring, but when Jess's name came along again she could sure as Hell feel that bruise where she'd been punched in the heart earlier. Speaking of Jess and the tunnels, though, and getting back to that metaphorical drive through re-experiencing the trauma, "That wasn't until after though. I, uh... I kept going after finding the hatch, and I didn't hear her-..." It wasn't Jess, Ashley. "...hear... 'it' anymore..."

Once she'd found that asshole friend (who she loved dearly but was still an asshole for ditching her) and they were together again she didn't want to separate anymore, even for a minute. She wanted to grab Sam's arm and tell her she wasn't going anywhere by herself. They needed to find Mike but going alone was suicide, that was what the stranger said. And even when he'd been with Chris...

But Sam was set with her plan. The longer Mike was alone, the higher his chances of being slaughtered by whatever was out there.

Sam had obviously never seen a horror movie in her life. The big, tough white guy always had a better chance when he was alone. Even if Mike was only half white.

There was no changing her mind though, and even if there was Ashley couldn't quite find the right words that would make her stay (that _weren't_ reciting the entire plot of every teen horror slasher ever to her); couldn't get them out of her mouth before Sam was trying to find a good foothold to start climbing. She'd apologized for leaving her the first time after Ashley found her again, crying like she was, but here she was going off to do it again, and Ash wished her luck.

Like, _actually_ wished her luck, as if luck had _anything_ do with any of it at that point. It was hardly a rasp in her throat and, without Sam's arm to grab, her cold fingers found each other and she wrung her hands together, watching as she headed up the wall and left her again, those years of practice showing off. And there was nothing she could do but go back; back up that drop-off she should have taken, back past what could have been Jessica's voice and hope that it was gone, back through the manhole and the too-dark halls where hopefully nothing but shadows were creeping; back to the basement, where Emily's body was still sitting there waiting to keep her company.

But somehow, though she was thankful for the silence and a certain lack of unwelcome voices or wall-skittering, Ash found that there was something heavier about the quiet this time around. When she was able to heft herself up over that drop she _should_ have taken before, with what could hardly have been considered a decent boost and a slightly less terrible pep talk than the ones she'd been giving herself throughout the interrogation, that silence was so thick in the air that even the buzzing in her cotton-filled ears kept at bay. When she found that fork again she slowed for a moment and took a peak, second-guessing herself on if what had happened had actually happened, but when she heard what could have been a particularly heavy drop of water hit a puddle she flinched and those cat-like reflexes kicked in and she was gone.

She ran past it, a chill on her neck tailing her far too close until she realized just how loud she was being and how far she was getting. Forcing herself to stop again and slow down certainly didn't help to alleviate that feeling of being chased that hung over her shoulders, whether there was something there or not, but at least when she chanced looking back she couldn't see the fork anymore. Which... wasn't as relieving as Ash would have hoped. At least it kept her on her toes.

Or, well, it tried to. Come time to climb that ladder though- _whew_. What a time. And what a triumph it was getting to the top. She lost her footing more than once trying to get up it a little quicker than that lack of relief and the bars slick from all the humidity were willing to allow, even dropped her flashlight, but the choice on whether or not to go back down for it was short-lived and she found that she just 'didn't care' at that point.

Only when the manhole cover that was just as heavy as she remembered it being was back in place did she stop, fall right onto her ass on the freezing and somewhat damp concrete, and breathe. Her flashlight was still on, down there in the puddle at the bottom, but as she gave her heart and all the rest of her a chance to compose itself, letting the hair on her neck and arms do the same, she just couldn't find it in her to give a damn. All she cared about were the different shades of rust on the pipes above her head, and the voice telling her that this probably wasn't the safest place to be getting over those shitty sleeping habits.

There was still a very dark, very creepy hallway to get through, but that was like a field of goddamn daisies at that point, and though she hustled through it as well it didn't frighten her nearly as much as the tunnel had. Because the dark was just the dark when adrenaline took charge, and she knew that what stood between her and the monitor room was nothing but the butt end of Josh's fun house. So, before that adrenaline had a chance to take a break of it's own but her heart had had a long enough moment to scotch-tape itself together again, she rolled over and climbed up onto her feet again, beginning to regret wearing these boots for the trip because damn were her her feet sore.

Shoulda worn her sneakers. Her dad had suggested she at least _bring_ them. 'You're gonna want them', he'd warned, with as much of a smug look as he could manage when she had claimed there wasn't enough room in her bag. There was, in fact, enough room for, like, at least one and a half Catsbies to come, and he was a _very_ fat cat.

A couple hundred miles away, Ash's dad was probably in the process of being struck with that sense that he was right once again.

Blah blah. _Whatever_ , dad.

Just hurry up and get here already.

Poor life choices and ignoring the words of the wise aside, upon reaching Josh's own personal surveillance station, there was nothing left to do but wait. It was about five-thirty by then, she assumed, going by the numbers one of the monitor's read, and she kept glancing back again and again only to find it moving along at so slow a pace that sometimes she would look back two or three times in a single minute. When would the sun come up? Seven? Eight? Sometime around there. She couldn't have been sure how long she'd been down there though, doing nothing but waiting and thumbing through that stranger's journal, because eventually it came to a point where she stopped checking the time entirely. Emily never stopped existing, but Ash never let herself turn around and look at her. When she came to mind, some sick part of her just pretended that she was only sitting back there, calling Ash a bitch and other nasty things and giving her the cold shoulder and probably also wanting to slap her a little. Not-Ash didn't need to be whispering in her ear for her to know that she deserved that much.

Somehow or another, she managed to hold on to her sanity (she was pretty sure), and that general peace was able to find her nerves again, but it was just as she was beginning to let herself relax into her chair and had kicked her feet up onto the edge of the desk that she heard them.

She quieted her breathing and looked up, her toes sliding right back to the floor, all sound canceling out until she heard nothing but her staggered breaths and the gentle, steady hum of the monitors. But then it came again and it was real- that screeching. The blood-curdling screams of the wendigo, and there were more than one. Faint, but echoing and high enough to pierce the corridors with ease. It was far but it wouldn't be for long. They were there. They were there in the tunnels and she felt the blood drain from her face and her fingers. That journal slipped out of her hands when they forgot how to function, but she couldn't hear it hit the desk as her eyes shot to the tunnel she'd only just returned through.

Her first thought was of Jess again, and the voice beneath the trapdoor. Another slicing cry though and her mind knocked that image away and she stood, but she couldn't move. It had become instinct- when they were there you froze, you didn't move and they couldn't see you. Just like in Jurassic Park. A shitty reference but it came to mind, and it made it just a little less horrifyingly real imaging that Dr. Grant had her back. But only in her own head - the threat was still very much there. She subconsciously hoped it was raptors.

Or, no, that wasn't even a subconscious hope. She really fucking wished it was just raptors. At the time, they seemed like the easier option to hide from.

Another second and the screeching grew louder- closer, as if it had moved through the entire complex in the span of just a few seconds, and she couldn't stay still. Mike was right, a quick glance up and around and she understood that; this place was like a giant cage with a bow slapped on it, just waiting to be ripped open.

So she ran. Did her best not to scream, did her best not to trip over her own feet every time she turned a corner or nearly slipped when her legs couldn't keep up with the rest of her. They were behind her. Three? Four? Maybe more than that, she hadn't stopped to count because that fear of being chased kicked in full force and she was fucking _out_. Her eyes saw where she was going, saw that blur of color ahead of her and all the faded roses of the wallpaper, and her mind and a voice shouting right through the cotton in her ears telling her to keep running directed her where to go, but she wasn't there. Her conscience was having trouble keeping up because her body sure as fuck wasn't waiting on it, but when finally she saw the door to the theater she felt the smile.

At the time, it was safety, and instead of anxiety and fear rising like bile in her throat it was hope. She saw Sam there, and would have run right into Mike's arms had that not meant stopping, no matter what he'd done to Emily earlier. Nah, right then - seeing him come into view - he was still that asshat she'd grown up next door to who knew enough Spanish to curse at her when she sprayed him down with the garden hose. But she couldn't just rush him and trust he'd beat the shit out of those monsters on her tail like common playground bullies, because the decision-making part of her was still in the dust and she could feel the definitely-not-raptors' breath on her neck.

Her shoulder began to ache at the memory of slamming it into the edge of the open door when she stumbled just near the end. She drew a hand back off of that icy table and ran it along her arm, squeezing it tight to numb the sore feeling a bit, but it only made it worse. There had been that brief moment of panic (moreso than what already filled her, the others, and the whole damn mountain) that that was it, she was dead. But she'd kept her footing out of some divine miracle - knowing at that point that it sure as hell wasn't Hannah's ghost and she wasn't sure what else it could've been aside from sheer dumb luck - and instead of stopping to hug either of them she just flew straight past anyone in her way, screaming at them to run.

It was almost morning. It was almost dawn. The sun would be coming up, that man with the flamethrower said that it was safe during the day so if they could only get outside they'd be okay. It'd be over. They'd be safe and they could go home and-

And then she saw her. Like in the basement she stopped and that smile was gone and when her conscious mind suddenly caught up and slammed into her back her breath retreated so quickly into her body that she nearly choked. But if she'd coughed she'd have been noticed, and so she held it in and stilled her lungs and beating heart, the only chance her body taking to move being that quake in her fingers and knees.

As if she were there again in the lodge, air thick with dust and the sound of those daunting chitters, she felt that fearful bile now, sitting in the relative safety of the ranger station filled with cops, with guns and rational, decision making minds that weren't stuck two staircases behind and unable to keep up. It brought with it the anxiety it had brought then and she felt her hands quiver, the pulse in her chest growing so loud it completely drowned out the memory of some set of shutters upstairs banging indignantly against the side of the lodge.

Considering the whole fright-fest with her not-self earlier, Ash was way too freshly acquainted with the feeling of dread sinking into her skin. No matter how much it just made that soreness worse she ran her hands along her arms to dull it down a bit, she wasn't about to let it show it's ugly face again in her tiny world that was this interrogation room. She'd be damned if she was gonna let her breathing grow ragged and the memories shocking through her system again send her spiraling back into that hole in the ground like they would later, on those cold nights where she couldn't sleep because it was just too dark and the trees outside cast shadows across her bedroom walls like long and mangled arms and claws-

"There was another there in the lodge?"

Something tickled at the burnt edges of Ashley's shot nerves.

' _Hannah..._ '

A painful twitch in her vision made her wince and swat a stray hair laying too lightly on her ear. The feeling didn't go away, it made her knuckles tremble. Looking across the table and seeing that anticipation again and a mirror that was, thankfully, still void of death, she gave another nod and pressed down hard on her knees. They were suddenly restless again, probably just as leery as Ashley was of the bitter cold and dark places that had gone out of sight but not too far from mind as they tried to come creeping back. There was a gospel humming in her ears, low and quiet as if cautious of being noticed.

Ash was way too aware of it.

Maybe not-mom really believed her, maybe she didn't. But as far as the camera was concerned Ash decided there wasn't much of a point of going into a grandiose amount of detail on the exact amount of wendigo in the room prior to their not-so-lofty entrance, not when that twinge in her knuckles and in her legs came again and wouldn't leave. Maybe Ash would catch her later, out in the hall or something, or maybe she'd just spill it all once the camera was off because Hell she really needed someone to confide in, pancakes or not. So she offered quick details, hardly enough to sate anyone's curiosity but plenty enough to get her out of that damn room. She kind of missed her world having a larger population than just the two still in it.

Hannah's name came rapping at her ears again but she wouldn't say it. Seeing her hanging from the chandelier like that Sia song she only knew the chorus to had iced over her boots and held her rooted just a few feet away from the stairs. She told not-mom about how she'd torn the other wendigo to pieces and the gas line to the hearth broke. About Mike getting his stomach ripped open and Sam getting hers run through. About how she had watched Mike flip open his lighter because he knew he was gonna die, and look her way, telling her without words that she had better get the fuck out because Hell's kitchen was about to fire up the oven.

And about the fingers that brushed the hem of Matt's letterman and caught on her belt loop, pulling her back and towards the back door when Hannah turned away at the sound of Sam's voice but her legs had forgotten they were legs and not useless dead weights.

Honestly, the 'one' time her body decided it didn't have a mind of it's own. And her _friends_ were the assholes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is very probable that I am complete garbage.
> 
> I embrace that about myself (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. - Gonna be real with y'all here, I'm having trouble deciding how to end this. Wish me luck; it's 7:30 in the morning, I haven't slept, and I've got an appointment at ten. Yippee.
> 
> <3


	12. Ladybird, Ladybird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which u all find out that I'm a goddamn dirty liar and I'm not even sorry about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is confirmed that I am garbage but I am very _cute_ garbage. (๑ゝڡ◕๑)

"And Josh?"

The last question to close out the way too long and way to excruciatingly painful 'interview'. Josh... He was the only one left. The only one unaccounted for come the end of it all. Ashley had given all the details she could up until she last saw Matt when he'd carried her to the lodge and given her a hug, and up until she'd last seen or potentially _heard_ Jess either on the steps of the lodge at the beginning of the night or below that hatch in the tunnels, but for Josh only loose ties were left. Chris had never brought him back from the shed. Mike had never brought him back from the mines.

The rangers still hadn't found any of them yet.

"The wendigo... it has to be..." Ash breathed. It was the only possible outcome she could think of unless he'd just gone gallivanting off in a less-than-stable haze and gotten lost on the mountain. She prayed for that to whoever was listening, because it meant they'd still be able to find him. Alive and in one piece (physically, at least).

"What?"

That one last sigh for the one across the table, whose familial situation would remain forever on a need to know basis, turned into Ashley just sort of huffing out a gentle laugh and clapping her hands together in her lap. The letterman cuffs muffled the sound and she began pulling at her fingers again instead of fighting her jittery knees. "The _monster_."

She wanted to call it what it was but she didn't because she was a hypocrite. She'd accepted that.

"It took him down into the mines, where it _lives_..." She really didn't feel like fighting to explain it again when she knew she didn't need to. That anger that she didn't have the energy for wasn't gonna win her over, not when she'd already made it this far. There were only a few more things to say and she'd have beaten it. "And Sam and Mike, they went to go find him... and we were _going_ to meet back at the _lodge_ but-"

Another dull laugh for just how well that whole 'meeting up' part had gone, but Ash wasn't really sure if this one actually got out or not. She could hear it, as it was forcefully drowned out behind the sudden ache in her throat that she couldn't swallow, but not-mom didn't acknowledge it this time with those mom eyes like she had the other one so maybe it'd just been her. Her fingernail polish was almost all gone now, she realized, when she went to chip at it again so as not to think too hard.

And she didn't have to because... that was it.

Not-mom was quiet, after Ashley had trailed off with that laugh she probably couldn't hear, and she looked over that notepad and scratched something down with her not-black pen while Ash looked over her torn-up nails with the blood all dried in the beds of them, searching out some last bits of polish to pick off. There was nothing left to ask because not-mom knew the rest already. Sam was killed, Mike was killed, the roof of the lodge was blown into the atmosphere and probably straight into the sun... and then the chopper showed up. There wasn't really too much that'd happened in that span of maybe thirty seconds aside from her missing the step off the porch and experiencing a surprisingly hard fall into the snow. Not really any point in sharing that pain, though, not-mom already knew well enough just how much grace Ashley lacked, especially when she was scared. Cat-like reflexes were fuckin' fantastic when it came to getting really far really fast, but not too great when it came to watching where your feet landed because cats didn't always land on them.

Ashley didn't spill any extra details when the camera was off, because once that notepad with the unbearably vague timestamps and the notes on the different degrees of 'nuts' Ashley had fluctuated between over the course of the past few hours was tucked into the back pocket of not-mom's jeans and the door opened up, the whole world got a lot bigger real quick, and the weight of it sorta kinda evened itself out a little. The air that flooded in with Dr. Young with the open door was warm and she shivered at the sudden breeze that was probably more than enough to defrost the table, but not quite at the warmth level needed to thaw out her skin.

"I checked in with my men searching the mountain earlier, they hadn't found much by then," Not-mom offered, pushing her chair in when she stood and gesturing to Dr. Young to let him know he could join them. "It's been a while though. I still can't promise anything, but I'll see what they've got, yeah?"

That was fine. Ash wasn't sure she wanted her to promise anything, honestly. If she was as much of a woman of her word as the doc was then maybe, but she still doubted any of them would have held up a hundred percent, and she didn't think she could handle being let down so hard if they couldn't be kept. Not when she was this hungry and this tired.

Not-mom looked to Dr. Young, who had come over to Ashley's side of the table and offered his hand in that same upturned and unassuming way, and Ash could see that worried look that was sort of like disappointed but with a little less annoyance and a little more fear. It was aimed towards the floor but then covered up again with all the finesse of a woman who was just too damn good at getting confessions out of murderers and petty thieves when those eyes, still plenty filled with momitude no matter who they were aimed at, found Dr. Young so she could tell him that Ash was gonna be left with him for now while she went off and did her sheriffly duties. Not that Ash was against this, but having caught that glimpse she had of that look on not-mom's usually pretty battle-hardened but still soft sometimes face... that unease crept in through the cracks in the ice that covered her skin. It may not have been the dread come knocking again, but she wasn't too sure if it was any better.

Ash knew there was something she wasn't saying, but given it didn't seem they'd be bonding over any kind of breakfast foods anytime soon she didn't think she'd be hearing anything of it. So she just watched not-mom turn off the camera, taking that hand that the doctor offered and letting him help her to her feet. She looked to her water bottle one last time and decided against testing how strong her stomach was - she could wait a while longer and decided to just leave it.

Not-mom was out of the room pretty quick after assuring her that she'd see her before they took her into Calgary, and when that door opened again and Ashley finally got a good look outside and into the hall, past her not-brother with that new bandage on his cheek who held it open instead of holding twenty dollars worth of vending machine snacks, it was so bright she had to rub her eyes and open them slow so they wouldn't ache so much. It didn't help.

Dr. Young held her hand and let her squeeze it as tight as she wanted (or as tight as she was really able - her fingers still felt a little deprived of blood flow), and led her along, telling her she could sit in sheriff Cline's office and call her dad while she waited. Said that they'd already called the precinct in LA to give them forewarning about a case potentially headed their way, and that they'd already talked to him too. That _he_ had already talked to him personally. He promised he hadn't given him a heart attack and all but, even though Dr. Young had so far proved to be very trustworthy and most definitely someone who made pretty solid promises, Ashley had her doubts. He wasn't old enough for them and he knew how to handle scary things, but when it came to her, her dad had heart attacks all the time over the smallest of things. And this was the most polar an opposite to 'something small' anything could possibly have gotten.

Before she had her chance to go snooping around on not-mom's desk for any irrefutable evidence indicative of her 'not' being just metaphorically married to her job - or, y'know, a chance to see a family photo or something equally as obvious and completely conspicuous since she had decided to put her detective days behind her once and for all after tonight, Dr. Young asked if she might could help him with something first.

She was more or less in a couple of pieces instead of one, so she wasn't sure what she could really do with a scotch-taped heart that'd just gone twelve rounds being knocked hither and yon by Pacquiao and Mayweather, but what was she going to say? 'Fuck no I'm going to sleep, bye'? Of course not, she liked him and his pretty hair and his soap-opera-watching birds too much. Besides, hearing the favor that wasn't even a favor at this point but something she'd been wanting to hear for _hours_ , her icy grip went slack and she found herself vomiting out a 'yeah definitely' that shoved past that ache holding back her laughing before a potential 'no' could even think to come to mind.

Looking up at him, however, was probably her worst decision to date, no matter how pretty he was and no matter if it had or hadn't actually been her decision at all. She stopped walking.

She stopped because the door to the room bumped up against the one she'd been in was open, and they passed right by it. Because when her eyes caught on his face they only stuck for a second before deciding at the last second that he wasn't so important as the break in the perpetual white of the hall with it's bright ass lights and occasional row of chairs against the wall. Because her damn green eyes that her mom left her decided that they hated her enough to make her look and she'd gotten a peak in by mistake.

It was nothing but an open door to a dim room, small and unremarkable with no furniture because it wasn't meant for sitting and chatting, but it wasn't what the room didn't have that made her chest tighten up. Ashley had been right; the not-mirror was indeed not a mirror but a window and it was the only thing in there, and she could see into the room with the camera and the ice block, whose walls were just as dark a grey as they were earlier from this side of things. The corners were black and the clock on the wall was ticking in her ears even through the wall.

The light from the hall was enough to light up their reflection on the glass, but her reflection was just her reflection; the one she'd left on the cab window that had only recently found her again. But past that and past the glass that Ashley was certain wasn't even just your average, run of the mill, two-way not-mirror, sitting in the chair that Ash had been, with holes in her skull looking a little darker than she remembered, was the reflection that most certainly wasn't a fucking reflection anymore. Smiling back at her not like the Mona Lisa (she was a Hell of a lot more 3D than that) and not like some demon, but friendly and sweet and completely misleading (like a three-tiered chocolate-on-chocolate ice cream cake with strawberries and shit but the piped roses were poisoned), and in a way that insinuated that they weren't done yet, was not-Ashley.

In those black pits burrowed into her skull she saw her winking at her again. Ashley's piece for the Sunday morning obituaries was only half-written, she didn't know enough about her to finish it even if she knew everything in Ashley's mind inside and out, so by her logic she couldn't just leave. What kind of funeral would it be with an incomplete eulogy (and no piped cyanide roses)?

A right damn fucking fine one, Ash decided, her fingers squeezing the doc's again as he kept mumbling in distorted English. She could hardly hear him, the analog clock that seriously needed to get with the times and go digital already was ticking too loud in her ears and it was suddenly a lot harder to breathe again.

But she had no plans to hang out in the future having a pajama party and watching shitty musicals while not-Ash wrote up her death certificate like she'd probably already done with everyone else's, and she _certainly_ didn't wanna stick around and listen to what was planned out for the epitaph.

Probably would have been whole-hearted (though she was positive that not-Ash didn't have a heart or anything, probably just another opening to the Kingdom of The Damned where one should have been) and funny in the most ironic, passive-aggressive sort of way.

Probably rhymed, too.

If it did rhyme Ash couldn't really have complained, at least not too much more than she would have been already about the whole being dead thing.

Most likely thinking she'd just gotten curious and _wasn't_ coming up with comical yet perfectly macabre poems for her headstone while reminding herself to exhale, Dr. Young ushered Ashley along with that hand on her back and she didn't fight it. Was beyond thankful, actually, because she probably wouldn't have been able to get herself moving again otherwise, and thus would have just been stuck there staring like she'd been stuck staring at Josh in the shed, and trying to find better words that rhymed with ' ~~God is a~~  dick' (note: there aren't too freakin' many with one syllable).

Before she could get out of view though, Ash watched as her not-self gave her a little wave, twiddling her fingers that weren't even fingers but claws waiting to grab her ankle and drag her to Hell. Her stomach turned over bitterly.

Ash made a mental note to keep a safe distance between herself and any particularly pretentious-looking cakes.

There was at least some kind of consolation to be found though in seeing that the pit that had been trying so damn hard all night to swallow her up, so as to let not-Ash shovel the dirt and guilt and pain on top of her and plant some freaking _poesies_ or something while she was still drawing breath, was no longer attached to her heels. Instead, it was still stuck right there beneath the chair where she'd left it. So there was that. It wasn't following her around anymore and she definitely didn't miss it. Not-Ash could have the damn thing.

No matter how warm her insides were getting and how heavy Matt's jacket was starting to feel, Ashley must not have been looking too panicked on the outside, because Dr. Young wasn't bringing it up, and in fact he didn't even seem to have even noticed. Practice makes perfect, she guessed. He was still talking and his words were still garbled, and since she didn't speak Pig Latin or helicopter or whatever you could call that mess of a 'language', Ash just watched her feet as she walked, like she did in school. The tiles were white and speckled and just as blinding as the walls but not-Ash wasn't leaving her mind and she wasn't letting herself get shoved back behind the hunger and the exhaustion. The tick of the clock faded away the further from the room they got and by the time they rounded a corner just a couple of doors down it stopped completely, but it wasn't replaced with silence because the humming was back.

It echoed in her head and it was a different song this time, one that was a little less familiar but Ash still knew all the words. She wasn't sure if it was not-Ash trying to haunt her still or what, because they left her way back in the other room and it was too bright for her to walk around here. Right?

Either way, as Dr. Young came to a stop and had Ash sit in one of those chairs that dotted the wall of this new hall (that looked pretty much the exact same except it was much shorter and capped off with a heavy metal door with a glowing 'EXIT' sign above it) before disappearing into the door just across from her, she found herself humming it, too.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens were nice thoughts. Happy thoughts. Things were a little worse than a dog bite or a bee sting, but while she sat there counting the speckles of peach in the tile at her feet instead of the ones on the ceiling, her blood began to feel a little less like it could boil an egg (or a person). She tapped her fingers on her knees and her knees tapped back, just as her toes were doing on the insides of her boots, because making the song real made it easier to ignore who had potentially started it in the first place. There weren't any mirrors around anymore and the hallways were definitely far too bright for demons, but just bright enough to let her think about wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings instead of the lack of speakers at her funeral due to all of her friends being dead.

The door across from her opened just before she could get to the end. Dr. Young caught her picking at the holes she'd made in the knees of her leggings and just making them worse. He offered her an encouraging smile, "Alright, come on."

When he beckoned her over she stood, moving slow and careful and like she wasn't used to standing or walking without help anymore, and she slipped past him into a room that wasn't too unlike the one she'd just left. Only it had far better lighting than the darkness her imagination had concocted for the other one, and the walls here were painted just as the hall was and hadn't been left as that grey stone with a tendency to change its color value at will. There was no analog clock on the wall to help count any ticks and lie about the time, either.

Any jealously over how she'd just gotten the short end of the stick here was pretty fleeting, though. She couldn't blink away the bad things but she could blink away that, and the ranger against the far wall as well. All she saw, and all she _cared_ to see, was that sitting in the chair across an ice block from a camera that had since been turned off, just as she had been with not-mom in her room with the maybe-not-too-dark grey walls, was Chris.

She'd hesitated. But she'd opened the door.

Hearing the gunshots, the screeching... she'd been so scared. She didn't know what was happening, and with everything that stranger had told them her mind had jumped to all kinds of horrible possibilities, and she'd frozen up and that ice had started crawling across her skin. But when she saw that blinding flash of fire and felt the burning heat on her cheeks and through her clothes, he was suddenly there with an arm hooked around her stomach hauling her back that single step she'd taken onto the porch, back into the lodge, and he'd slammed the door behind him. Glass would've been nothing to that thing lurking just past the settling flames, but for some reason it hadn't given chase. It recovered from the blast and lurched, hunched and menacing in the frozen powder as if it might, but then Chris squeezed her wrist so they could run and Mike's hand was on her back and it wasn't busting in after them.

Having a little moment of honesty with herself again here, Ash hadn't been wholly convinced that she hadn't dreamt up that half-hour spent developing a vice grip on his arm in the helicopter. She'd been waiting to get to see him again, because that paranoia that she'd finish talking to not-mom and be let out of that room and realize that she really was alone at the end of it all...

...No. She didn't want to think about it anymore.

As she hurried over and held her arms out to wrap them around his neck, nearly tripping over herself getting past doctor young and just barely missing the table with her hip when her vision handed her one final 'fuck you' for the road and blurred up with the oncoming tears, Ash figured that maybe.... maybe God wasn't a complete and total ass.

Still pretty terrible, if he was there, but maybe not 'shitty person' material.

Behind her, Dr. Young was talking again and his words were sounding suddenly a lot less jumbled and a lot more like English, but now that she _could_ understand him, she didn't care to listen.

It was because she had his back that Chris had made it inside - that he was there now in the chair across the room that resembled the one she'd been stuck in all morning same as he had. Because she'd promised she would way back when they were still hunting ghosts; promised she'd watch his six and he promised to do the same. And it turned out that they had been pretty damn good at keeping promises. They were here now because they'd stuck to each other as well as they were able after that horrifying moment when the wendigo finally became _'real'_. Because from the séance and the Scooby Gang all the way up to when he grabbed her outside of the lodge and held her tight to cover her from the debris of the explosion, he had her back just the same.

He let go of her wrist to grab her hand after that, while the fire died down and they realized that Sam and Mike hadn't made it out with them- that _'no one'_ had made it out with them, and finally it was shaking more than hers. But his grip was tight and he wasn't letting go; not while they sat in shock and silence in the helicopter as the blades chopped up any English garbled their way, or while they were given a quick once over by a medic who wasn't a doctor, like Dr. Huang had said; Chris with his busted knee and bruised ribs and head, Ash in just about the same boat with chafed wrists, a sprained shoulder from slamming it into the edge of the door, and too many cuts and bruises to count. Plus a black eye that was only getting darker, the copious amount of blood coming as a shock to most when they found it wasn't coming from her.

Her fingers weren't even given the chance to be cold again until the two were forced apart to have their statements taken.

She practically fell into him as soon as she was close enough for her legs to decide on a 'fuck you', too. He flinched at first, because as if he hadn't noticed them come in at all he hadn't looked up and didn't realize she was there until her arms were wrapped around his neck. But even when she blocked out Dr. Young and sat with him and squeezed his neck, he... wasn't saying anything. She pulled back enough to hold his face in her hands.

Ash caught sight of all the blood on the glove she still wore, and tore it off of her hand before pushing her fingers back over his hair and moving and smoothing back any strays that'd fallen messy and out of place back with them, careful of that bruise Josh had left on his head. She did it more than a couple of times, just trying to make sure- like, 'really' make sure that he was there and he was totally and completely solid and that he wasn't going anywhere, and also to cement her decision to label God as maybe somewhat kind of decent in her book. When he didn't say anything, she didn't try to get him talking. Didn't say 'hey' or hope for a stupid joke, didn't break into a million questions and ask if he was okay or anything... she was content to just sit there curled up on his lap and not wanting to let go.

She did, however, realize all at once just where the forensic psychiatrist in a town that most definitely didn't need a forensic psychiatrist had probably been for the first couple of hours.

He'd been able to joke and even had the energy and the gall to bicker after Emily, but whether it was adrenaline or what-the-fuck-ever else it'd worn off and Chris had been barely able to finish after about halfway through his own far-too-lengthy conversation with who-the-Hell-ever. Every answer starting somewhere around the trip out to the shed had been vague; quick and breathless and nonsensical. And that was if they got words at all, the man interrogating him having to simmer things down to primarily yes and no questions afterwards so that Chris could just nod or shake his head. Ashley had apparently been the one to fill in most of the blanks in the other room after she'd blocked the Emily fiasco out. Or, that's what Dr. Young was trying to explain for her now while she was busy not listening.

She'd been there with Josh in the shed just as he had. With Emily, with the gun and the saws and the lodge catching fire... and they didn't even know if Josh was still alive somewhere just as Matt and Jess could have been but there was no hope at this point; no room for wishful thinking after it all, and no room for jokes to help keep them going. He may have kept it together after Emily but only just, a last ditch effort just to help keep all the rest of them sane maybe, but when they were picked up and brought to the outpost and separated he... must have had time to really process it all. Really come to terms with what had happened and the fact that all of his friends were dead.

The shock had finally set in and he just looked so... despondent; nothing in his eyes but empty blue space as he stared at nothing in particular. Ash could feel him hugging her back though, once he probably actually realized that she was there. She wasn't sure if there was anybody actually home or if it was just his body on autopilot at this point, but he squeezed her tightly every few moments, just to reaffirm to himself that she existed. That not _everyone_ was dead.

She hugged him tight again and smushed her lips and nose into his cheek.

It had been his hand on her arm and his soft spoken words that'd managed to hold her steady on the edge of the pit that was her shadow, down in the basement after she'd gotten to see that monster outside for the first time, when things suddenly became real. While he was trying to do the same for himself but she and the others were _more_ _important_ to him. Chris had been the one to grab her arm and drag her over into that corner with him, and his parka was the one she'd grabbed two handfuls of, when Mike dropped his gun and Emily's body went slack, to wrinkle up in place of Sam's hoodie.

It'd been him calling to her not to get too far ahead when Sam left them again in the tunnels, when going back past that fork with Jessica's voice had scared her near senseless, the realization that he couldn't keep up the only reason she'd stopped running; the reason she'd let him go up the ladder first while she waited and watched the blackness and listened for that chittering, and why she closed the grate immediately and no one went back for her flashlight. He was the one that managed to gather together the best excuse for a smile someone who'd just watched a friend get shot could have managed, and chide her on how her circadian rhythm was real fucked up but the cold concrete in some creepy old basement wasn't the place to fix it. The dark halls were a field of daisies because she took the offer from earlier and held his hand until they were back in the monitor room.

Chris's voice was the one that had shouted at her in the basement over the screeching of the wendigo as they grew closer (not Dr. Grant's because this wasn't Jurassic Park), and past her own erratic breathing she had listened. Those words telling her to keep running had been his as he ran ahead of her in the halls but never too far, glancing back more than forward, always making sure that she was right on his heels and never closer to them than she was to him. That blur of color against the faded wallpaper- the blue of his parka, that's what'd she'd been following while her conscious mind had been left to the raptors.

And then in the end of it all - in the dark, frigid air of the lodge after the wendigo had chased them out of the basement - it was his hand she felt brush the hem of Matt's letterman, trying to coax her into inching back with him from where they stood silent and without a breath between them. When all she could do was stand there and shake and try not to collapse, watching as the tallest of the wendigo dropped from the chandelier and stalked them all and waited, expectant and hungry- always hungry - for someone to make a move; the miners, her or Chris, Mike, or even Sam.

No. No no, not... not 'wendigo'... not this one.

Ashley had seen her for hardly a split second earlier when Chris had returned from the shed and come rushing through the back door, but she hadn't known then. Hadn't known because when Sam and Mike returned from the mines without Josh, she and Chris were busy trying not to die. She didn't get to join them in the lodge and stop for a chat and listen to them talk as they headed down to the basement; listen to Mike while he refused to give in and accept calling them anything but 'things', but Sam had stopped calling those monsters- _that_ particular monster an 'it', and started calling it 'she'. Calling it _'her'_.

They hadn't had the chance to tell them about Hannah's journal, about Beth's grave... Emily had mentioned the head and how Hannah hadn't been killed in the fall, but not much more. But then Ashley had sat down with that stranger's journal while they had nothing to do but wait, and Chris had gone mostly quiet sitting there with her, neither of them ever far enough from Emily's body. She'd read up and she'd put the pieces together herself, not wanting to believe that her hunch could be right but at the same time unable to rule it out as all that far-fetched of a notion. But it wasn't until right then, when 'she' strode close enough, and turned just so that the glinting light of the early morning slipping through the windows and the dust flickered over that tattoo on her shoulder... and Ash knew.

Hannah... It really was Hannah.

Or, what had once been her body at least, emaciated and misshapen and still wearing a pair of faded panties as the miners wore their coveralls and shredded shirts. At that point it was difficult to believe that their friend was anywhere in that thing, not as she tore apart the other wendigo and was pinballed between Mike and Sam, unable to settle on a noise to follow.

And Sam... she was looking back her way, back at Ash, risking death just to move her hand at her hip and wave them towards the door. She knew what Mike was doing and, with a glance back at him as he grew ever closer to an exposed bulb, reaching out for it at a snail's pace as Hannah was distracted by another wendigo, Ashley and Chris knew as well. They'd all seen the gas line for the hearth burst.

Chris's fingers had hooked on the belt loop of her shorts when she didn't make any effort to move. Paralyzed, thinking of all that could go wrong even now. Just as she had in the shed, at the table with the gun, in the tunnels and in the basement just before... All that ran through her head were thoughts so rancid with blood and terror and she couldn't move, even when she felt him pulling on her belt loop again. He was getting farther from her - she hadn't dared look back but she could tell. And then suddenly that stalking silence was broken.

She didn't quite understand what had happened, she realized, when her mind was too focused on the gore-spattered outcomes rushing through it to focus on what her eyes were actually seeing. All she really knew was that Hannah _had_ been headed for Mike not a moment ago, but suddenly he was on the floor against the support beam in front of her and the shock of his back slamming into it hard enough for her to feel it in her boots was threatening to shake her legs out from under her. Ashley had involuntarily jerked with the start, an unwilling gasp from her lungs bringing Hannah's sole attention right to her. And the only thing that she could do was shut her eyes. This was it, this was the end, and the iron still flavoring her lips was overtaken by the taste of salty tears and she clenched her jaw tight, afraid even to let her lip quiver for if it did, if she so much as _breathed_ , she'd have been unable to keep her crying silent. She could feel the stink of that breath against her face and those claws ripping into her neck... but then Sam's voice called out.

She was dead. She was dead oh my god she was dead. Sam please-

Hannah was so quick to stalk away from her and find whoever it was the voice had come from, and as soon as she was gone Ashley finally began to back up. Chris had already let go of her; she looked back before she ran and he was at the door and pushing it open. Before she could join him though, that screeching filled the air one last time, and Sam slipped up.

Ashley wished she hadn't have looked; hadn't have had her attention drawn over so easily only to see the very last moments of another friend's life as Hannah lifted her from the ground by her face and drew her claws back. It was gruesome, and some part of her - that same _sadistic_ part of her that had forced her to watch Josh being cut open in the shed - _needed_ to see it; needed to know that when Sam died she really was dead. But she refused to let it win her over that time around. Somehow she found it in her to tear her eyes away and she bolted, with one last look to Mike as he rolled onto his side and gripped his lighter tight. She stumbled when wood became snow and missed the very last step but that didn't stop her - she was outside and the sun was already turning the trees and everything around them orange and bright with the day.

"Hey..." Ash hadn't heard anything when she ran, but it rang in her ears now. The only thing audible above the incessant resonance of the dead silence that blocked out everything else being a way-too-quiet voice brushing past her ear.

She had every intent to keep going after recovering from that last step trying to trip her up, hell-bent on getting as far from that God forsaken mountain in as little time as could be managed, but a rumbling explosion and a burst of heat as every pane of glass on the lodge burst open was enough to cause her toes to get caught up in the snow. A hand on her wrist though was what made her scream - crying and begging to be let go, but it wasn't some monster having chased her out of the building. It was Chris, kneeling there just near the picnic table and trying to drag her from the path of the debris.

"Ash?..."

Back in the doorway, Dr. Young spoke a bit more as Ashley pulled back again to check on Chris at the sound of her name, but if he gave warning before the door was shut and he was gone she hadn't heard it, just like she hadn't heard most of what was coming out of his mouth. He was only gone for a few minutes, anyways, so it didn't really matter. Unlike the doc though, Chris didn't really say much of anything after just those couple of words aside from a few mumbled and incomplete sentences (Ashley couldn't help but think he sounded a little like Mike when he didn't know how to react to something). Probably just trying to figure things out, she supposed. She really wasn't too sure he knew who she was or what was going on around him half the time but she wasn't going to bother him about it. Not right now.

She thought she heard something about Josh. They didn't know where he was, and Ashley didn't know what had happened out in the shed or what had happened with him, and Chris was wondering aloud and in those murmured fragments where he was. She didn't know what to tell him, and even if she did she didn't know if he'd have been able to comprehend it.

When Dr. Young came back he had to actually interrupt and make sure Ash's attention was on him, and touched her arm to do so. In truth, she'd forgotten what he'd said before, about waiting in sheriff Cline's office and making any calls she wanted to make while the rangers made preparations for them to be taken into Calgary. So when he said they were gonna go there, she slid off of Chris's knee and stood back up on legs that seemed a little more willing to do their jobs, took a breath and puffed out the weight of the day and all the relief she'd managed to find in it, ran her fingers over her eyes one more time to dry them a bit before grabbing Chris's hand to help him up too.

She'd had an easy enough time standing, but he still had to hobble along since his leg wasn't doing any better, and having to pull together all the willpower he could to outrun the wendigo to get out of the basement probably hadn't helped in the least. Ashley was honestly kind of surprised that he could walk at all without some kind of help after that, though she did end up having to keep hold of his hand so he wouldn't just stop, being out of sorts and all. He was just about as shocked at how bright the halls were as she was and stopped in the doorway for a second to adjust to it, but when she tugged on his hand they were able to get moving without too much trouble.

The front of the station was a little less white-walled and a lot more busy. Ashley could hear the noise of early morning routine before they'd even passed through that set of double doors. Suddenly that small world was a lot bigger, she realized, and she just kind of followed the sound of Dr. Young's voice after that, too busy watching all the rangers bustle about to watch where she was going. Everyone was shuffling around between the desks that filled the area, handing off papers and chatting and tacking on keyboards and just going about their work day. And all Ash could think was that none of them knew.

None of them had been there, up on the mountain. They weren't there and they hadn't seen it - this was just another day for most of them.

They hadn't just lost almost every person they loved to a monster that shouldn't have existed. They were still _oblivious_ to the fact that monsters were real. And Ash, she... she felt... _jealous_.

But that exhaustion really seemed to be withstanding, and the anger and the spite that she honestly _wanted_ to feel this time... it had very little to say out loud about anything before it was crushed and she just felt _tired_ again. So she just squeezed Chris's hand and made sure he was still walking okay, and kept going. However, the dull roar of conversation made the doc, whose voice she was still following, a little hard to actually hear. And so as a result, when she looked back at him he'd stopped and she very nearly ran right into his back.

Boy, that would have been embarrassing. In this big ranger station full of people who were.... okay, they probably weren't all looking, but it still would have been embarrassing to some degree. On some kind of instinct or something, Ash still rubbed her nose as if she _had_ hit something, and peaked around the doctor as he knocked lightly on a door with not-mom's actual name on the glass. It was already partly open, and Ash could hear not-mom's voice as she spoke on the phone.

Dr. Young turned to the one who had most definitely not almost embarrassingly slammed into him and, with a few hard to hear words, he told them to wait just a minute before stepping inside the office and pushing the door mostly closed again.

Now, Ashley may have sworn off of her snooping days not, like, ten minutes ago, but her detective instincts hadn't sworn off existing. So, through the power of not-too-crappy selective hearing, she rested her back against the wall and could hear not-mom on the phone. "But you know _exactly_ where they were when you heard from them last?..." She asked whoever was on the other end, and Ash could hear that tone again. Not the mom one, but the worried one. And it wasn't the soft kind of worried. Ash felt her stomach trying to turn itself over again at the sound of it. "Alright. Alright just have the guys check near that area then and if they can't be found then have everyone come back top-side. Don't have them go any deeper, there could have been a structural collapse... No- no that's... it's possible the radios just can't get through."

Dr. Young interrupted her for a moment, but his soft words were way too difficult to hear over the sound of the busy precinct. Ashley pulled Chris's hand up and busied her fingers with his own because she didn't want to listen anymore. He wasn't complaining. They were talking about the mines, anyone could have put that together. Not-mom was no liar, she really had sent people down there. It was the next part though that really caused Ashley's stomach to lurch and her insides to heat up again.

"I don't know what they heard." She admitted, "There are all kinds of animals living on that mountain, any one of them could be down there, you know that... Sounds can get distorted bouncing around the cave walls like that. Don't scare yourselves over nothing just-... I know. I know, just... find out what you can about where they went and we'll go from there."

Mike hadn't gotten them all.

Ashley _really_ didn't want to listen to any more of it, and luckily wouldn't have to, because she nearly jumped out of her skin when the door opened again. She startled Chris too by accident, and apologized to him quickly as Dr. Young invited them in and directed them where to sit. Not-mom had finished her call and hung up but Ash watched her carefully still. The look on her face matched the tone. "You two can wait here for now." She said, and suddenly the mom side kicked in again because she wasn't letting them hear that fearful tone. She grabbed the phone on her desk and turned it around so that Ashley could use it. "It'll only be a few minutes, you can call your parents if you want. I'm afraid my guys still haven't found much yet..."

There went that streak of honesty right out the window. They'd definitely found _'something'_.

Not-mom looked to Dr. Young and boldly neglected to acknowledge her lie. "You've already told them about where they're going and everything?" She asked, just to clarify before she left them all again. He nodded and they shared a few more words before she gave him a nice, solid pat on the shoulder, that probably could have knocked him around pretty good if she was any tougher than she was, and departed.

She was out of sight pretty quick, leaving the two there in her office alone when even Dr. Young stepped out. He wasn't far or anything, just outside the open door, speaking with a ranger Ashley didn't recognize. She could see him through the large windows with their blinds drawn most of the way up, and she could see all the rest of the station from here, too. It was busy and full of people but, in reality, it wasn't all that big. Not like the LA precinct at all. The office wasn't too huge either but there was plenty of space for the bookshelves against the walls and a Canadian flag in the corner just next to a blue one with Alberta's emblem on it, and not-mom's desk certainly wasn't the most orderly. It was kind of a surprise that the computer looked pretty new and wasn't a dinosaur.

There were no photos aside from just one, of a retriever curled up with a particularly fat cat on somebody's sofa. So she _did_ have kids.

It took Ashley a few minutes of just sitting there taking in all the normalcy of everything outside of those white back halls and her interrogation room with the grey walls and the mirror. Eventually though she did reach for the phone. She picked up the whole receiver and everything, making sure the wire didn't catch on anything and pull that glass egg with the jellyfish in it or any of the papers it sat on top of to the floor, and balanced it on her knees. When she grabbed Chris's hand again though, since she only needed one to dial, and picked up the phone, she hesitated. She knew her dad's number - had him on speed-dial and never actually dialed it, but she knew it - but when she squeezed the phone tight and looked over to Chris again...

She wanted to call her dad and keep him from having way too many heart attacks but he would have to wait.

Just a few more minutes, dad. Promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never said he died. Y'all thought, tho
> 
> Chrashley-trashley ໒( ♥ ◡ ♥ )७
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Also before I forget:  
> -I'm planning one more chapter, and then a sort of bonus epilogue-like chapter (They may end up getting combined, I'm not sure how short they're gonna be). That will be the end for this fic, but I may be adding some bonuses later on.
> 
> EDIT: I'm on hiatus until after the holidays !! Sorry, y'all. Be back soon !


	13. Tommy Snooks & Bessie Brooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ashley realizes that the world is made of bullshit and her dad has suffered enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE. TAKE IT U MONSTERS.

Unfortunately for Ash and the well-being of her dad's probably-way-too-stressed ticker, that 'few minutes' turned into at least a good twenty before she was able to hang up.

After a few moments of silence on Chris's part following ten-ish minutes of him just kind of mumbling into the receiver and not really paying much attention, he did lower the phone, and she took it before he could accidentally drop it or anything. Ashley didn't really know if she could have credited herself with getting him to talk, because he hardly got more than two or three words out to his mom before he just stopped saying anything at all. She wasn't sure if he really even understood what was happening, honestly. Occasionally, when the voices on the other line tagged out or when there was a particularly raucous noise that came in through the open door of not-mom's office his fingers would tighten around hers, so there was that, but it wasn't very often... Maybe he was still some kind of there?

Dr. Young hadn't said anything in particular to really frighten her about his mental state, so she just decided to trust that he would be okay. Hopefully. She put a hand on his shoulder when he looked kind of wobbly, making sure 'he' didn't accidentally drop or anything either.

Figuring that, since she hadn't gotten to talk to her dad, he hadn't gotten to talk with his parents either, she'd called them up first for him and found out she'd been right. Not surprising, given... how he was. A one-sided conversation hadn't exactly _not_ been expected, but the sound of his mom on the other line after Ashley had gotten the phone back made it clear that she was relieved to have gotten to hear him at all. She was crying but, really, what else was she supposed to do? They'd been discouraged from making the trip both by the cops here in Calgary as well as Dr. Young who'd gotten to speak with them more than once on the matter, told that she and Chris would be back in the states as soon as possible. Having known them for a couple years now, it wasn't too surprising how easy they had apparently been to pacify, but Ashley could only imagine how his sister's were taking things.

Since Chris wasn't good for more than a couple of less than coherent responses, Ash had also gotten to explain in detail every minor cut or bruise she could see because apparently his mom trusted her a little more than the _actual_ doctor who'd told her before that he was going to live. Easy to pacify was one thing, but the more she explained the more calm Chris's mom seemed to get. Ash was a little surprised when the woman actually took it a little better than she'd thought when she explained how he hurt his leg pretty bad but he could still walk on it, even though she really didn't think he should have been. And how he got hit in the head, too. Pretty hard. Twice.

It was nice to hear worry from a mom she knew, and throughout the whole call Chris's mom would stop her repeatedly and ask if she was alright as well. It was a pretty good mood lightener and, as a result, Ash actually found herself smiling when she got a 'be safe, honey' and an 'I love you' and one more 'be safe' before finally hanging up.

The Big Man upstairs though wasn't about to have that. Nuh-uh, not at all. None of that 'Ash being happy' shit.

The doctor's soft voice came from the doorway while she was letting out a breath that wasn't so heavy with the stress of the night and she was forced to stop it short, "All done?" He asked, when Ashley's eyes were looking back over her shoulder at him, "All the affairs in order?"

He was giving her that smile and his words were light and probably even joking, but all Ash could hear were the sounds of her hopes crashing into the dirt when somewhere in her jumbled brain a metaphorical Kylo Ren had just gone ape-shit on another hallway or something. That breath that'd been meant to relax her came out choppy and just as rough as all the others. Biting hard on the inside of her lip, Ash looked back down to the hunk of plastic sitting in her lap that had just two seconds ago been the physical manifestation of said hopes. All up high and shit.

She had only _just_ taken the phone back off the hook and her fingers were already hovering over the first digits they knew to dial. Seriously God, bro, give the poor soul a freakin' break here, man. Chris's mom was a good Christian lady who went to church, she'd promised Ash that she'd keep her in her prayers - what other connections does a girl have to have to get her one phone call?

The one to Chris's parents didn't count. That was _his_ one phone call.

But, this was Ashley. So instead of requesting a couple more minutes so she could call Chris's mom back and ask her to ask the Big Man upstairs for a favor for her, Ashley did the most Ashley thing that Ashley could have done and didn't argue. She just looked over to Chris and stared for a moment, and then turned those big, sad eyes slowly back down to the receiver and dolefully gave in. He needed a hospital a Heck of a lot more than she needed that phone call right now. What was another hour or two over a whole night of forgetting to call, anyways?

Probably a couple of additional heart attacks, but Ash decided to trust that her old man would be okay because he was probably used to them. She gingerly set the receiver back on not-mom's desk next to that picture of her kids and the stack of papers with the jellyfish egg on top of them. "Yeah," She mumbled just as gloomily, climbing rather reluctantly to her feet and ushering Chris onto his. She could wait, it _probably_ wouldn't kill her. A bunch of wendigo hadn't killed her. She was pretty sure her patience was through the goddamn roof.

Another awkward walk through the station that was only awkward because Ashley felt a million pairs of eyes on her that weren't actually on her and they were outside. The air was still crisp with the smell of the early morning; all the pine and fir and, of course, ice. The snow from last night coated the trees and the roof of the station, and of course any grass that was usually in sight, but the walkway and the drive were all cleared. A cruiser sat just ahead of them, it's engine warming up and looking like some sort of safe haven, sitting out there on the gravel.

The sight of it was a completely real and most definitely not-metaphorical-at-all end to the night. Nobody else was gonna die, there were no more fake killers to ruthlessly slaughter teenagers for sport, no ghosts or pigs or monsters, no demons in any mirrors... It looked like and end to all the shit and the start of an outcome that was turning progressively less bleak. Ash wasn't too sure if she could trust an outcome that looked any less that five thousand percent bleak as Hell after what'd happened today.

A hand on the chilly metal said that their safe haven was just a car, though. But it was a running car, and Ash decided that she'd take that.

Dr. Young took Chris away from her to lead him around to the other side, and she watched them go and listened to a bit more chopped up English between the good doc and who she assumed would be their driver. Chris still looked... 'droney', and she was grateful that the doctor made sure he didn't whack his head for the third time just trying to sit down. He really didn't need anymore potential concussions.

The door shut only hard enough to make sure it wasn't going to pop open again, and there was this sudden heaviness that just poured right off of Ash's shoulders. She'd really convinced her tired self that this cruiser was a haven because realizing that Chris was shut up safe and sound and that nothing else could happen to him now let her relax enough to actually 'breathe'. The air was frozen and chilled her insides, but she welcomed it. Dr. Young smiled at her from over the hood, but she didn't think she was quite ready to smile back. Not yet.

Rather than just frowning instead, since she liked him too much to ruin his day like that, Ash turned her face away, to frown down at the handle of the door and her one gloved hand that was tapping it's dark plastic instead. Her eyes caught sight of the person in the glass on their way down though, but this time the face staring back at her didn't bring up anymore panic than a single skipped beat. The only thing there was a very beat up, very bruised reflection of herself. No black pits - just a pair of green eyes all bloodshot and puffy from the crying, smudged with the remnants of eyeliner and mascara.

As it went, her stomach gave her one last turnover for good luck. There was still a huge smear of red on her cheek that'd dried up by now. Chewing on a lip that was chapped and nearly raw by now, she lifted a shaking hand to scrub at it with the cuff of Matt's letterman, sucking in one more deep and sniveling breath of frosty air. Her cheek was bright pink from more than the wind chill when she stopped, but unfortunately there weren't much more than a few chips of red on the jacket when she looked at it again so she figured she probably hadn't done much good. Instead of checking her reflection again though just to see, she reached quickly for the handle to pull the door open and join Chris, all too happy to let her world shrink right back down to a population of only two for a bit.

However fate wasn't about to let her get off that easy. Ash was given one last heart attack of her own for the road and nearly jumped right out of her skin and right off the goddamn planet for what was probably something like the trillionth time when a familiar set of pink fingernails and the hand they were attached to slapped down on the edge of the cruiser's door and pushed it shut. Ash was pretty sure her heart was sick and tired of all the bullshit by now but, luckily, when her hand gripped at it through Matt's jacket it still appeared to be kind of alive. Or she was mistaking her heart for the pounding in her temples that was so loud she could hear it with her toes.

Not-mom leaned heavy on the edge of the cruiser, staring Ashley down and blocking her from finally getting away from everything and minimizing her world and her worries again. There was no sugary sweet, Sam-like smile, and a very unsettling lack of momitude in her eyes made it more difficult for Ash to coax her blood pressure into chilling the fuck out. Maybe it was the lack of fluorescent lighting or something and the sun was clearing up Ash's delirium, but not-mom didn't look so kindly and comforting or the least bit pancake-friendly out here in the daylight when she wasn't trying to get information out of anyone. Ashley swallowed hard, wondering if this was the look that her not-bro had gotten earlier, and she hoped that the lump in her throat she was forcing down was the heart she had been trying not to lose track of.

"What is up there on that mountain?" There was a hard look in not-mom's-... no, Sheriff Cline's eyes. There wasn't enough mom-ly worry left for Ash to call her not-mom anymore. It was just your plain old, run of the mill _'worry'_ now. But as she stared Ashley down (or maybe stared 'through' her would have been a better way to describe that way she was glaring right into her soul), hard and long and with those powder pink nails strumming the freezing metal of the door frame, Ashley could only stare right back.

Given, she _was_ still trying to persuade her heart into staying alive for a few more minutes and thus wasn't one hundred percent on what she'd just been asked. So at first the whole dead-eying her in response thing was just because of that, and because of the shock which by now sheriff not-mom really should have expected her little 'appearing out of fucking nowhere' stunt to have caused. But then, when Ash was sure her heart was most definitely where it was supposed to be and was doing what it was supposed to be doing, and both of her feet had found solid Earth again after reflexively trying to launch her as far from anymore loud noises as inhumanly possible, the staring kept on because she looked that woman in the eye and knew that she had already answered that question for herself.

She'd answered it while Ashley was having her attack and Dr. Huang was trying to calm her down. Answered it when she'd gone out of the room during, and had contacted her people on the mountain only to find out that they'd lost a group in the mines. Answered it when she'd gone to see Chris's progress and heard him rambling nonsense about a monster just the same, and when her rangers said they'd never heard an animal make a sound like the one bouncing around the cave walls, no matter how distorted an echo it was.

Sheriff Cline didn't get an answer from her, only a few years of apprehension and praying that monsters didn't really exist packed into twenty seconds of baited breath and having a staring contest with a little girl who knew too much. Her fingers stopped strumming restlessly on the icy metal and curled into the palm of what must've been a very chilly hand. With a sigh of defeat, she reached for the handle and pulled the cruiser door open again.

Ashley couldn't even find it in her to give any kind of advice, lowering herself carefully onto the cold leather of the cruiser's back seat. All those hours of running and hiding and she didn't even open her mouth and grab the poor woman's attention one more time to let her know some of the basics, like how running was the worst thing you could do and hiding was just about as helpful as standing out in the open. So she pulled her legs into the car with her, and sheriff not-mom politely closed the door.

A couple of heavy slaps on the hood and the buzzing engine was shifted into drive, the sound of gravel crackling under the tires filling the quiet. Ashley looked up one more time as they rolled towards the main road, the yellow 'Blackwood Pines' printed across the sheriff's shoulders stretching as she crossed her arms and stared up at the mountains, debating what to believe and what to tuck away in the back of her mind and pretend to forget about. She couldn't see Mount Washington from here, it was too far, but the early morning mist still clouded the top of the range and it made them all look the same either way.

The tires touched pavement and the crackling stopped and gave way to a very quiet radio station. Ashley silently hoped that, if it came down to it, not-mom would remember that scene in Jurassic Park like she had.

More weight off of her shoulders was what she was hoping for, but what Ashley got as she watched the ranger station disappear behind a wall of trees was another sour feeling in her gut. Their chauffeur for the evening didn't appear to feel the same, and began to hum along to whatever was playing on the radio to fill the silence as they headed for Highway 93, probably so he didn't have to think about his beaten and bloodied passengers. Ashley listened to him for a little while and tried to guess the song, holding onto her stomach and trying to will the sickness away like she understood full well she still wasn't able to do because that ability was still way beyond the range of her many impractical talents.

The song was nothing she knew. And nothing was playing in her head anymore either. She was grateful for that.

With little more to watch than his fingers tapping on the wheel, she turned her attention to Chris instead, so quiet as he rested his bruised head against the glass that it almost made her even more uneasy. She sidled his way and reached over him, startling him gently and murmuring a soft apology for it so she could grab the seatbelt and buckle him up. They'd been through enough, he didn't need any added stress from being thrown through a windshield in the unfortunate event that a bear came charging out of the tree line and caused them to crash.

Once he was strapped in, she gave his arm a soft, reassuring pat and slid back over to her respective door and did the same for herself. She didn't know how far from Calgary they were, or how fast of a driver the ranger up front was, but unlike Chris she wasn't quite out of it enough to risk concussion by leaning her head on the window and letting the vibrations of the car give them matching bruises. Her hand slid from the sleeve of his parka down to his hand and she squeezed his fingers, just like that measly little three minute break back up in the lodge with he and Sam, before Emily had run in screaming, and he'd only been quiet because counting the dust particles on his glasses was keeping him calm. There are very few things that can keep you from thinking about your best friend going bat shit crazy and, for Chris, numbers were one of them.

Ash wondered what he was thinking about now, if he was thinking at all. Maybe he was counting the trees this time even if they were all a big blurry mess, she didn't know. She hoped it was numbers again because numbers were safe and that would have meant he wasn't still trying to piece together _where Josh was_. The rangers would find him, she tried to tell herself, squeezing his hand softly to try and tell him the same. He didn't look at her.

...They had to find him.

Cutting into her fearing for his mental state in spite of what Dr. Young had assured her was, to Ashley's relief, a lack of being impervious to complete and utter tiredness. She was about as burnt out as burnt out got, and after leaning into the crook between her seat and the window was lulled into letting the exhaustion beat the shit out of that anger she had wanted to feel, and the pain of her stomach as it griped at her, by the sight of the trees passing by in that big, uncountable blur against the sky.

The pines were thick and dark along the roadside. When she was little, she liked to watch the trees go by on long car rides like this one. Nostalgia seeped in as she thought back to something she'd read not too terribly long ago, about the pale figure running on all fours just past the tree line, a common delusion that apparently many children would conjure up out of nothing to cope with how fast things were moving (she was full of useless information, she realized). She'd conjured it up too. When she was, like, two. No matter how long ago though she still remembered it's scary face and how it wasn't a face at all.

There was no such figure now and 'relieved' was an understatement - Ash had had more than enough of pale figures chasing her down. So she just stopped thinking about it and returned her eyes to the sky. The moon wasn't out, but something in her got her hopes up about seeing some wild geese fly by. The sound of the ranger humming to the radio was warming (or maybe it was just the heater), but not near as much as the thumb running back and forth across her knuckles. Her head fell back against the seat and she let the heaviness in her eyes grow and pull them closed without complaint.

Ashley wished she could have said she slept. But, unfortunately, she was quite certain she was completely conscious the whole ride because she had been coherent enough to pay the attention necessary to decide that she liked their driver's choice in music. Regardless, she was still shocked into sitting up when he stopped humming and started talking, and when she looked outside there were buildings instead of trees. Through the front windshield was a big green sign that read Foothills Medical Centre.

 

* * *

 

There was no rushing about that came after the car was shut off, and no awkward glances at the bloody kids walking in the door with a police escort, but Ash still felt too many eyes on her as she squeezed Chris's hand. More eyes than were in the entire hospital, probably. All crowded together in any overly-sanitized crevices that the hospital had to offer, just glaring and waiting for her to trip over a shoelace or something. Even if her boots didn't have laces. The nurses' voices as they spoke with their driver and some officers that'd been meant to meet them there went over her head, and Ash tried to keep her world from getting too big again and letting all of those eyes in.

Now, even before this less than fun vacation, Ashley had occasionally had trouble controlling her emotions like a regular person (she knew this full well and had just learned to live with it), but when they were separated again she realized just how especially sensitive her mental state had gotten. It wasn't being away from Chris that did it, no - she was used to that by now; and it wasn't the being stuck in a cold room with two nurses and a woman with a camera that she didn't know, having to strip in layers to let her take pictures. Ash was perfectly fine with that. To a degree.

But they took all of her clothes. Even her beanie and Matt's jacket. Call it a gut feeling or not-so-sudden-onset depression or what have you, or maybe it was just the smell of anti-bacterial cleaning products getting to her, but as they bagged up her security blanket and the jacket she started crying and couldn't stop. There wasn't even any kind of warning at all, the lady with the camera had just turned away for a second to put them up and when she turned back Ashley was practically sobbing. Just full on, blubbering sobs, only kept quiet through sheer will and hiccuping breaths alone. Little help those were, however.

The rational part of Ashley's brain (growing ever smaller) knew she was taking it a little too hard, and making the nurses worry wasn't going to help her get anywhere, but she didn't want them to take everything away. Forget her hat - she was supposed to give that jacket back to Matt's mom. What was she supposed to do now, if the police never returned it? She wouldn't be able to give it back and Matt's parents would be even more sad. That was what the irrational part of her brain (growing ever larger) was trying to reason apparently, and why she couldn't stop crying about it even though there was close to a hundred percent chance that it would be okay and Matt's mom would probably have forgiven her.

Twenty minutes of nonsensical blabber about how sorry she was, soft assurances from all three of the ladies sharing this probably way too private moment with her that she'd be fine, and suffocating her tears in the scrubs of one of the nurses that didn't look too long out of school herself, and Ash was calm enough again to finish. Calm didn't mean the same thing as completely emotionally sober, though, and throughout all the rest of the exam she was a sniveling, pitiful mess over her way too strong sentiment cocktail, debating signing up for some kind of psyche-based AA group or something. It was a very serious consideration too, if something like that existed, because the 'calm' Ash here could hardly hold her arms up long enough for any pictures to get taken. At least she got what she wanted afterwards though - a shower to strip down and curl up in where she could cry with no one around to disturb her, as loudly and as long as it took for her to get some sort of something that could be called a handle on her distilled spirits.

Throughout the rest of her exam, she was listening but didn't hear the words of the now overly-cautious nurses trying to talk her through the motions. She nodded when they said anything in her general direction, and nine times out of ten it got her an encouraging smile in return so she just kept doing it. She had no broken bones and her shoulder wasn't bad enough to need much more than just a night spent not sleeping on that side, so physically there was nothing for the nurses to worry about. In their professional medical opinion, she was suffering only from a severe lack of a will to go on. Or that was 'probably' their professional medical opinion - it was certainly the best way to sum up what Ashley was feeling and how her insides had just jumbled themselves up into a huge knot that she'd never get undone. Whatever their real opinion was, she didn't get it. All she got was a temporary gown and a very breezy trip down the hall to her room and the bathroom there.

Those same eyes that had followed her in the front door were all squeezed together in the grout like packed sardines, but those aside there was comfort in the thought of being alone again. Even if she was standing half naked and freezing her ass off in a strange bathroom while she waited for the last nurse to leave, she couldn't be bothered to really be scared of the idea which was strange but her mind didn't get much of a chance to change itself. Another breeze hit her legs when the nurse pulled the curtain back. The hospital gown she'd been given wasn't too itchy, she supposed, but it wasn't warm either. The goosebumps on her legs were something new to focus on while she waited and watched the nurse prep her shower all wrong.

Ashley's usual morning routine consisted of turning the hot water all the way up, the cold water up just enough to keep her from suffocating when the curtain was closed, and then stripping down to pinch at her belly and inspect her face until the shower warmed up. The part of her brain that handled mindless routine kicked in as soon as she found herself standing there barefoot on the tile, so that the absent turning of the knobs and pinching at her pudge could be taken care of without her having to think about it. But that part was shut right back off again when she realized that this shower only had one of those single handles with a very fine line between Hell and Antarctica, and the nurse was turning it on for her anyways. So there was no mindless routine to follow while the rest of her went blank; she was left to her own devices and her own devices wanted her to do that thinking shit some more.

It was surprising how quiet and how short those forty or so minutes after she was left alone actually turned out to be. There was crying alright; lots of it, but for the most part she sat under the water that the nurse had made lukewarm but she'd pushed as far into 'Hell' as it went, pressing her head into her knees and pulling on her hair and letting the water scald the freckles on her back. The pain she stopped feeling after the first few moments was worth it, as the water melted whatever was left of the ice from Mount Washington and washed away any blood that could have been Emily's until her skin was burning red and the air was too hot to breathe.

She couldn't stop thinking about them. All of them.

She missed them.

There wouldn't be anymore going out to get the mail and fighting Mike off with a hose. She'd miss him laughing and yelling in Spanish at her; getting to sit behind the wheel of that '67 and turn the key so he could watch the engine try and fail to turn over; 'testing the horn' when he stuck his face back under the hood... Fool him once, shame on him. Fool him seven or eight times and that was a shaken-up soda in the face.

The only thing she'd get to see now was a garage door that never shut never opening again. His dad couldn't look at that Camaro anymore. Just like Sam's mom and dad couldn't walk by her favorite café, or go hiking on those trails she'd drag Ashley and the rest of them through way too early in the morning when the birds weren't even awake. It'd hurt them too much, and Ashley wasn't sure if even Sam had ever seen her dad cry before that sunny day they'd put what was left of her in the ground.

Mom-of-the-friend-group aside, losing Sam was more like losing an older sister. She was just... she was never _'not there'_. Tired but can't sleep? Call Sam and she'll talk to you until you're gone. Got a headache? Good thing Sam's got some of that weird, off-brand ibuprofen in her bag at all times. Hungry? Sam's guaranteed to make you change your views on how vegan food is absolutely God-awful. Ashley had tried her chocolate truffle balls and she'd never go back to Lindor.

Her parents brought her dogs to the funeral so they could say goodbye.

Jess didn't have animals, but she did have brothers and a step-dad who in the coming months would tear himself apart trying to find her. Like Sam's dad, she had a mom that never cried, but Ashley wondered what it would be like explaining to three little boys that their big sister was gone and dad was terrified. She wasn't blood, but she was 'his'. His monster who lost three phones in one year, his little princess that needed those new shoes because 'the others were periwinkle and didn't match her dress'... The thought of never hearing her laugh or blare her music again, of not seeing her face again, of driving past the high school on the morning route to take the boys to school and remembering that there was no need because there was no Jessica to drop off... It drove him to those restless nights on the phone with the rangers in Blackwood Pines. To calling day by day to ask what they'd found and offering to hire his own people- even suggesting they buy the whole damn mountain from the Washington's and dig through it stone by stone until they found her.

Jess, with those big dimples and snarky jokes, always the ~~biggest asshole~~ one with the scariest stories, and the warm hugs and kisses she gave everyone when she saw them, even Emily though she openly detested them (but never fought back).

Jess always gave the best hugs, in Ashley's opinion. Aside from Matt, that was. Jess gave the best hugs, but Matt gave the best _'bear'_ hugs. Big difference, but they were both great. Matt's were crushing, but at the same time so full of this sort of love that you just couldn't find anywhere else. He had those big arms and big shoulders, and out on the field when they hung after school, waiting for friends or just fucking around with everyone, he'd always have someone up there. Taller than everyone else.

There were no more hugs from either of them now, not unless the cops showed up tomorrow morning and dropped another couple of dehydrated and confused kids off, probably frozen to the bone from being on the mountain for almost two days. She wanted to hold their hands and keep them warm and tell them how much she missed them.

Until then Jess was just a voice under the floor and the faint feeling of where she'd left a kiss of Ash's cheek, and Matt was a promise he'd be back with help that he wouldn't be able to keep. Matt wasn't a liar - he just wasn't _capable_ of being dishonest. It wasn't in him. But when the help came and he didn't come with it Ash thought that was _bullshit_.

That was nothing new though, because pretty much everything was bullshit right now. Ash couldn't tell at this point if she should consider that pain in her chest to be the result of another metaphorical gunshot to her heart from the memory of smiling faces and jokes and completely unnecessary scary stories that she hated and loved at the same time, or a metaphorical shot of Jose Cuervo that tasted a little too much like distress and self-deprecation to go along with her sentiment cocktail. Whatever it was it shoved her friends to the side and brought her back to why she'd been blubbering in front of the nurses: Matt's jacket was in a bag somewhere and she'd probably never get it back, and that meant his parents would just get to bury an empty coffin like everyone else.

Thinking was more exhausting than Ashley remembered it being and that was saying something. But she wasn't done yet because when she looked down at her toes and the small tiles beneath them she wondered when the water had stopped running red and if any of it really had been more than just pig's blood. Thoroughly convincing herself that none of it was Emily would have to wait until she no longer thought about her and saw nothing but the Emily with a hole in her face where her eye should have been. The one from the basement, and the one from the mirror with it's hands around her throat.

That choking sensation threatened to flare up again, until Ashley came to terms with how she deserved it. She missed Emily too, just like the others. Her, that 'holier-than-thou' presence, the 4.0 lingo from her first term of college classes, and every single bit of her 'love-bitching'.

Back when Hannah and Beth had vanished, Emily had been a wreck. A totally stable-looking, perfectly made-up and well dressed wreck, but a wreck nonetheless. Aside from those rare occasions that she'd just go quiet and break down in front of the rest of them, she didn't cry in front of anyone but Jess. Those rare moments were how they knew she wasn't as okay as she came off. It was only for the first couple of months though, when Jess would ask to Skype with Ashley or Sam in the middle of the night and they'd see Emily passed out on her bed in the background, trying not to go behind her back and divulge too much and instead blaming it on a 'particularly bad break-up'. The worry on her face always gave her away, and they all knew Mike had let her off easy.

After that there was no more accidental crying in front of anyone. She went back to school in the fall just like the rest of them, trying to forget what they'd done like the rest of them but not forget the faces, and went back to being the queen bitch that they all knew, loved, and even missed. She picked up on her big, college words again and Ashley remembered sitting with her in Sam's room waiting for pizza, having her hair tugged on and flinching every time the curling iron got a little too close to her skin for comfort. Somehow, after an entire semester of trying not to think about it, the twins had come up while Sam was out of the room, and Emily had stopped rolling another lock of hair around the barrel to let it cook.

That was then, and this was now - that was what she'd said. Vivre au jour le jour; taking each day as it comes. She was making up each day of her life as it came at her and wasn't a wreck anymore because, as she had put it, she was just getting better at picking up the pieces and 'not fucking dropping them everywhere' (always a poet). What had happened with Hannah and Beth had happened and there wasn't any going back in time to fix it because, no matter how blessed she might have thought she was, God hadn't given Emily that ability either.

Ashley's ear had been swollen for three days after Sam came in with the pizza and she'd been startled into bumping the iron right out of Emily's hand. She stopped thinking about the blood in the drain and thought instead of the burn and the part of her ear that was permanently scarred. That tight hold on her hair lightened up, she pushed it all back and out of her way so she could rub the tip of her ear and think a little more on Emily and her big words.

Ash's vocabulary was nothing to scoff at or anything (unless you were Emily), mainly thanks to all that writing she did and how she never closed her Thesaurus.com tab, but Em's had always been radically larger. Ashley and Jess both were pretty positive that she pulled a couple of words out of her ass on occasion, but for the most part they were probably all real. Jour le jour - day by day. Living in the now.

The now that was here; alive, with Chris in Calgary. It would have sounded pretty pretentious coming from anyone else, but from Em it just sounded like she was meant to say pretty much everything that came out of her mouth.

Those words- the one time in recent memory when Emily had said something meant to reassure anyone of anything - they were the reason that Ashley was able to slow her hiccuping and shallow breaths again and not wonder if her body had been charred at all when the lodge went up. Maybe she was still in one piece and her parents would get a bit more closure than the others. Those words were what got her too look up and around her and really take in where she was and be _grateful_ for it. She was still breathing, still living... still _'here'_.

She was able to psych herself into standing up to turn the water off, wring out her hair, and wrap herself in a towel so she could do a little more waiting before psyching herself into putting on some clothes. Her other mindless shower habits had shoved off, but the ten to twenty minutes spent sitting on the toilet seat scrolling through Facebook and deliberating the fragility of life was tradition. She didn't have her phone though. That was some kind of a motivator to get her to spend a little less time standing there naked in the stuffy bathroom. Her fingers were pruney.

A spark of bravery (or maybe it was just a severe lack of giving a shit after all of her energy went completely kaput for real) had hit her after she turned the water off though, as she stepped out onto tile that was somehow still cold, sucking on the tip of one of her fingers as if that'd help the pruning any. Still herself enough to toy with the possibility of there being a note from some murderer in the fog on the glass, but also tired enough to not give those aforementioned shits, Ashley had dared to try the mirror one last time before she finally put on those not-too-itchy hospital clothes and left the bathroom.

However bravery spark or not, this was still Ashley, and she wasn't quite ballsy enough to just go for it. Her fingers hesitated when she pulled them out of her mouth and they felt the chill of the glass radiating towards them, a stark contrast to the warm air that filled the rest of the small space just as the floor was. It brought her right back to where she'd been way too many times today: to the back door of the lodge waiting for Chris, gripping the knob with enough force to hurt her palm and peering out so closely that the ice from the other side of the windows was able to reach through and prick at her nose.

The memory sent a shiver all through her, but it was the push she needed. If her rope had an end she'd reached it. No more wussing out. She smudged the fog away, just enough so she could see, and standing there wrapped in a towel and staring back at her was her own rather pasty self.

And she looked like shit.

There was no more blood on her face or in her hair, so she guessed she was okay. Or at least better than she had been. The only black left since she'd scrubbed her cheeks clean of running make up was that shiner; the Gateways to Hell had closed up for the night and the her in the mirror was the same her she was used to seeing in her mirror at home, before that cab had driven off last night.

The realization that she probably wasn't as crazy as she'd spent the morning convincing herself she was was a breath of fresh air (or maybe it was just the fresh air that actually came in when she opened the door), and Ashley wished she could have said she felt refreshed, or even that she was a little less of an emotional disaster, but the sad truth was that she still hadn't made it to that point yet. Any more crying came in the form of mostly silent tears and quivering breaths over a plastic spork and unsurprisingly tasteless peas though, so maybe that was something. That creeping exhaustion was no longer creeping, it had caught up and was out in the open hauling her down. And combined with the weight in her eyes from all the crying she'd finally let herself do, she was about to let it yank her right off her feet and into a sort of sleep that probably bordered on hibernation and made onlookers worry that she'd gone into a coma.

A coma kinda sounded nice.

When she was dressed and finally padded softly out of the bathroom she saw Chris across the room in the bed nearest the window, already long gone by now. The light above his bed had been switched off. His whole corner of the room was dark, actually, since her own bed lamp and the little tv high up on the wall were the only lights on, and it worried her. She watched him for a moment, expecting him to roll over or shift or sleep-talk or something, because he wasn't exactly known to be a totally mute rock when he slept (Josh always had some fun stories of shit he'd say in his sleep), but he was perfectly still and Ashley worried herself a little more until she was going over to make sure he was actually still breathing. After the night they'd had, this was a completely rational fear to have. There was no shame in being paranoid and having to make sure he was still there.

A hand on his shoulder assured her he was still warm and her demons hadn't gone and snatched his soul, and since he was turned away she stood on her toes and leaned over him to see that he was indeed still drawing breath as well. Totally rational fear sated, Ash stood back again before she could accidentally put too much weight on him, and gave his cheek a kiss before slipping the glasses with one broken lens off of his face and retreating to her own bed.

A tray of food that was still warm was waiting there for her, the nurse's must've just left. Not pancakes, but anything would do right now. She hoped that they'd managed to get Chris to eat something before he'd passed out. Throughout her shower it'd had the decency to leave her to her inner turmoil like the unsupportive _assnugget_ it was but, at the sight of what to any perfectly rational and not sleep-deprived person would have been a very unappetizing plate of hospital food, her stomach was running circles around what she assumed was her spleen. To the point where it kind of hurt, actually, and she was afraid it'd wake Chris.

Nah, still a rock, she assured herself with a glance over to him as she drew back the blanket and sat up on the edge of her bed. And once she was situated, she just... waited, taking the traditional ten to twenty minutes it usually took to psych herself into laying down and finally relaxing. She'd had time enough to sit in the quiet and take things in, but there wasn't and never would be enough time in the world to really get over it. And besides, this was a new room she hadn't mulled in yet. The lights were dim but she could see all the corners, even Chris's though it was difficult, and the volume on the tv was just loud enough to keep the buzzing out of her ears.

But it was also still really cold, especially with pruned fingers and pruned piggies and wet hair, so instead of doing the reasonable thing and laying down immediately, she pulled the edge of her blankets out from under her butt. The clock on the wall wasn't analogue she noticed, shimmying the peachy sheets up onto her shoulders and around her neck, and for some strange reason Ashley decided that that was a solid enough reason to trust it when it said seven-forty-seven. She wondered briefly if it had really been that long already, but shook off the curiosity and just stuck to trusting the clock. The sun had long since gone down, there weren't any slim rays peaking through the curtains.

Ash went the extra mile when she heard the ceiling shudder and felt the warm breeze of the heating on her still very wet hair, and she pulled the blankets up over her head to maybe help trap any warmth that made it to her. She liked to imagine that one of the boys (probably Josh) would have likely pointed out that she looked strikingly similar to a ginger Mother Teresa and would have wondered aloud if she was the 'cuter sister'. Josh wasn't there, but in spite of everything his voice in her head calling her a little old nun made her smile down at the thick socks one of the nurses had given her. She didn't care if she looked a little senile or that the blankets were a little scratchy, because she was a very warm nun, and she sat and thought and felt how heavy her face was getting, watching her feet swaying a good foot off the tile wrapped up in those thick socks. When she chuckled it was a strange thing to hear and an even stranger thing to feel.

And cue the tears again.

She wished he was there so she could hear him laugh when Sam smacked his arm, and so she could apologize for being such a shitty friend and give him all the hugs in the world. Just like she did everyone else, she missed Josh too.

So with him, that brought her count of people to cry over a mouth full of mashed potatoes and peas for to a grand total of six. She pulled her legs up onto the bed when the darkness beneath it made her uneasy, and left the bed lamp above her on while she made as respectable an attempt as could have been expected at enjoying her meal in relative peace. As much as one could enjoy a bland, hospital supper. Honestly though if it had tasted like tar she wouldn't have noticed; every bite was salty when the tears she didn't bother to wipe away slipped into her lips, but all she cared about was the fact that it was warm and her stomach was quieting down. She decided to just pretend it was pancakes. Tasteless, watery pancakes. Within' a few minutes the heating did it's job and it felt as though the room grew at least a few American degrees (aka Fahrenheit) warmer.

After a while of channel surfing and wondering if Josh would have forgiven her for forgetting about his stupid face while she was crying over everyone else, the bright and moving colors of some soap on the television became plenty enough to keep her attention even if the concept of whatever she was watching escaped her completely. She didn't care what it was because the plot wasn't important to her; it was colorful and happy and that was all that mattered. Occasionally she'd glance over to Chris and wish he'd at least start to snore or something. She wanted to go and check on him again but opted instead for staying a warm little abbess and squished another bite of mashed potatoes and peas into her cheeks, chewing on the nubs of the spork out of some elementary school habit. The tears very gradually dried up and she was left with rosy cheeks and some on and off sniffles.

The soap eventually went off when the clock struck eight-thirty, and some commercial about cooking came on so Ashley grabbed the remote to click through more channels. There was static every few clicks, but there had to be something on that wasn't some Billy Mays wannabe yelling at her about home goods. That something was gonna make her hunt it down though, because she was flicking along for a good couple of minutes at least.

Old movie that was probably Casablanca, static, a documentary on elephants, static, some colorful cartoon for infants that Ashley debated letting lull her to sleep, static. This hospital got really crappy cable. Eventually she just stopped trying and flicked back to the cartoons for babies, but it was just before she came to it again that the quiet hum of the television was interrupted only briefly by a quiet hum from somewhere else. It was hardly a whisper and Ashley tore her eyes from the screen to glance around and make sure she could still see all the corners of the room, but when it didn't come again she took a breath and put down her spork. It was nothing. She was done being crazy for today.

She kept hunting for those colorful cartoons, but when the ducts went silent and the room began to drop those few American degrees again, she hit a string of four or five channels of nothing but static that she didn't remember going through before. Then she hit a sixth, and a seventh, and a twelfth before that murmuring came again in the form of audible words and Ashley jolted a little more upright. She wasn't crazy- she knew she wasn't. But even if it wasn't who she thought it was, those words came from _'somewhere'_. Chris was still asleep, and he wasn't talking. She'd left the bathroom door ajar and realized only now that the sliver of black between it an it's frame was too dark for her to see in. The only corners that weren't lit up enough.

She really wished that her dad was there, to check the closets (or bathroom, in this case) and under the beds. That's what dads were for, after all - everyone knew that the bogeyman didn't go after adults. They were too... not-impressionable. And they also weren't five.

Ashley was pretty positive though that, five or not, anyone in her shoes would have shrieked and sucked themselves into a ball when the television whose volume had hardly been on two a moment ago shot up to thirty-seven and scared whatever kind of living bejesus was left in her right out again. The blizzard of static was loud enough to block out anything and everything, including her own thoughts as well as whatever she had heard, and she fumbled with the controller in a panic for a solid few seconds before finding the mute button in the dim light. The tv flicked to the next channel down when she hit the wrong button first, to Calgary's local weather station and some man with greying hair and a smile so large it almost made her sick to see.

Another quick glance over at Chris to see that he'd rolled over but was still sleeping and she realized that that was all that she could take. Here she was, enjoying her terrible dinner, almost able to find some kind of relative peace for the first time in two days, and her crazy was ruining it because it wasn't ready to let go just yet. She really hoped she had only been squeezing the remote too hard without thinking about it but tossed away her itchy cloak and went to get up anyways, and under the silence of the television the whispers came louder.

It wasn't just not-Ashley and it wasn't from the bathroom anymore. She remembered the fingers that weren't fingers but claws, twiddling at her through the mirror that wasn't a mirror because they weren't done with her yet. They had been waiting under the bed, patient as the sin they were made of, for her too get too warm and push a leg out from the safety of those warm but somewhat itchy hospital blankets, bare and vulnerable and ready to drag her screaming through the fiery gates by. There hadn't been a pajama party and the eulogies weren't done yet because hers was half written and her tulpa probably hadn't even gotten around to starting on Chris's yet.

She wished again that her dad was there, but he had never made it. He'd tried, of course; he wasn't about to leave her there by herself after hearing what had happened even if she did have Chris. But she figured that he'd been told the same as Chris's parents were because, after the time it would have taken for that Concorde jet to go around the world once or twice had passed, he still wasn't sitting there in the chair by her bed reading her five-year-old self a bedtime story or talking about how one of his buddies got his nose busted by some jerk who didn't want a DUI.

Without him, the monster beneath her bed was free to skulk and kill and eat, the image of it clawing it's way out and across the tile enough to cause her to hesitate. But she'd just given herself more reason to get up, and though she still wasn't anywhere near as ballsy as Jess or Mike or Sam she held her breath and hopped out of bed, expending whatever scraps of energy she had left to launch herself as far from the darkness beneath it as she was able. She got a solid three feet of leeway, and scurried across the cold floor a little farther before looking back, sending out a silent thanks to all those years spent turning off her bedroom light and having to run and launch herself 'into' bed. Her crazy told her that a pair of eyes and long fingers that weren't fingers were taunting her from that black abyss, but the rest of her said it was fuckall and she continued her mousy scurrying over to the bathroom door to pull it shut before the Hellfire could spill out. She could have sworn she heard the gentle cackling of that sweet angel of death as she closed the door.

Sorry Satan but not today. Or any day soon, for that matter. She'd earned the right to a good few decades with her soul after last night. And, reminded of it once again, her dad had earned that call.

She was up now - the worst of it was over and she'd made it away from the blackness beneath her bed. But a couple of experimental breaths to assure herself that she was definitely alive, and that her crazy was just her crazy and there were no eyes in the walls watching, and she was hobbling right back over to it. Like Hell she was going anywhere in this damn arctic zone without some kind of a wind breaker. It took a few tugs and little bit of tenacious grunting, but soon Ashley had donned her cloaks again and was ready to venture forth. Before heading out though she paused just for a second more to grab the tv's remote and put the volume back on two again, not so thoughtless as to leave Chris in the dead silence where her demons could start whispering sweet nothings to him while he slept.

Figuring that the watery and somewhat salty pancakes had gotten her tank at least a hair's width above 'E', Ash decided that she may as well work off that last little bit before she passed the Hell out finally. She had the feeling she wouldn't have been able to sleep if she didn't get this done. It had been put off and put off and interrupted and just plain impossible to do since she'd gotten off the plane, so now that it was on her mind again she wasn't going to let that shitty memory get the best of her like it had too many times before. Ashley padded gently over to the door and expended a little more of that energy and a couple more persistent grunts to pull it open, that blanket dragging along the tile at her heels because she hadn't forgotten her vow to the nunnery either. Maybe once he saw her dedication to blanket church, God would decide to lighten the fuck up a bit. Hell, she was feeling particularly faithful tonight, maybe she'd visit the hospital's chapel if she had the fuel to spare.

Did they have those in Canada?

The last time she'd been to a hospital was when her grandpa had his surgery, but she watched House a lot. She figured all big hospitals had them.

Ash was as quiet with that excessively heavy door as she could have possibly been, but it squeaked no matter her efforts, especially when she had to grab the handle and use her body weight and a bit of physics to get it open. She was no Matt, after all; her amount of upper body strength was approximately at the level of 'Absolute Jack Shit'. But seriously, how did they expect weak and dying teenage nuns to get those things open and go about their sneaking when they were so heavy and loud? Ashley offered another grunt of complaint because of the weight, but otherwise figured that nobody was around to care and the door certainly wasn't gonna come to life and decide to go Paleo just because she was a jelly-armed wimp.

Grabbing up the tail of her blanket so it wouldn't get caught when she closed it, she tossed a look back at Chris to make sure he was still asleep and not succumbing to the darkside that was their resident bathroom ghost, and was careful when closing it back. No matter how gentle she was though, the damn hinges weren't gonna shut up about it.

The temperature in the hall felt at least ten American degrees colder than the room, which was a lot, and Ash shivered and pulled her somewhat-itchy guimpe tighter around her shoulders. It was late by now, but visiting hours were only just about to end so the main lights of the hall were still on. If she was quick, she could probably make it back before they turned out everything but the emergency lights and the lamps at the nurses station and left her hobbling around, cold and probably lost, in the dim light. She'd done that enough tonight and didn't necessarily wanna relive it, but at the same time it didn't serve as too great a motivator to get her to shuffle any faster down the hall like the little penguin nun she was. Gotta go say those prayers and shit.

There weren't exactly many other chilled penguins hobbling about, but still her loitering probably looked more like the norm than she felt it did with how obviously-a-patient she looked, even if she didn't have a rattling IV stand to roll around with her. She hadn't ever really been hospitalized before but tv said she should have one and she felt a little awkward and out of place without one. Ashley was pretty sure she was still above stealing someone else's though, so she just went without for now.

She'd stop shuffling occasionally on her way down to where all the halls met, just to watch a few people dawdle on by, some dressed in scrubs and others just there to visit family members. It was nice to just kind of people-watch for a minute, even if she only got quick and simple passing glances and the occasional, somewhat awkwardly-kind smile from a nurse or two. She couldn't blame them or anything; she'd probably have given herself the same look if she'd been in their shoes, watching this shivering little penguin hobbling along and watching them back with a swollen face and forlorn expression. Don't worry, children, only a lonely nun on a pilgrimage to find a phone.

Unfortunately, Ash couldn't bring herself to actually smile when that thought crossed her mind and just about grumbled past her lips too. She hiked up her itchy robes a bit more and continued walking. She wasn't angry, but her inability to smile at her half-sensible, borderline incognizant conscience's joke stemmed partly from the realization that it wasn't Josh's voice trying to make her laugh this time, and because no matter what it seemed she couldn't push past the bitterness she still felt. These people hadn't gone through what they'd gone through. They hadn't seen what they'd seen. Didn't know what they knew.

She didn't want to be so bitter.

Earlier, when things were a little busier but any major worries about she or Chris's physical and emotional states had been put to rest temporarily, she'd been able to people watch like this a bit and had felt the same. She'd taken a few minutes to just sit in her bed, before she'd gone to shower, watching the nurses tend to Chris in the next bed over and wondering how they were just so _unlucky_. And...

No... no, wait, not then. Before. It'd been before, when they first left the station; when they stepped outside and sat in the not-metaphorical car and were driven here to Calgary by the ranger with the good taste in music was when she felt it.

Seeing all of the faces she didn't recognize after being woken up - the faces of those who didn't know what they'd gone through; didn't know what they'd seen and what really existed not only up on that mountain but potentially all over the world... Ashley felt the most profound sense of detachment from the rest of it all, a feeling that she couldn't really recall ever having experienced before. It'd only been one night - hardly more than a full day since she'd last seen her dad, even, and yet she wasn't sure if she'd have recognized him now.

In fact she wasn't sure if she'd have recognized anything. Even looking up out of the window of the patrol car, seeing the clouds and the sun and the blue of the sky... it felt... new. Like something she had seen a lifetime ago but had been so long without that she'd forgotten what it looked like or what it was like to live with it always there.

More important than the sun and all that, though - what did Catsby's whiny meow sound like when he wanted food? She didn't even know it was possible to forget that sound. He wanted food all the time. All she could hear now when she tried to remember was Hannah and the sound of helicopter blades.

Some kind of red alert for the beginning of an existential crisis began to blare in her ears but she ignored it. Her toes bumped the molding of the nurses station and ten very cold but no longer pruney fingers slithered up to hold the counter.

Ash broke character when she let the blanket fall back off of her head, giving up her vows to the blanket church in favor of appearing a little more sane to the woman behind the way-too-tall desk of the nurses station. Her hair was disheveled and messy so that certainly wasn't helping, but she didn't bother even running a hand through it since the pretty brunette there probably didn't care anyways. Ashley wasn't easily fooled, though; she saw that awkward but still pretty kindly smile. Her hair was definitely noticed.

The nurse didn't say anything, as Ashley eyed the glass jar full of suckers sitting just at the corner of the counter. She resisted, though. Priorities, girl. C'mon now. Instead of giving in, she tapped one of her chipped nails on the phone that sat up on the counter as well, "Can I use this?"

The request came out just as small and withering as she must've looked, but it apparently earned her some pity, and Ash wasn't above riding the pity train at this point if it got her what she wanted. That kindly smile softened, "Dial 'one' if it's long-distance."

Sliding an arm around the phone and all ready to scoop it right off the counter, Ash stopped her only-somewhat delirious self when she saw the wire attaching it to the desk. She stood on her toes and strained a bit to follow it with her fingers. It _seemed_ long enough, giving way when she tugged it lightly, so instead of being a good little borrower, she did as she'd done earlier in sheriff Cline's office and picked the whole receiver up, cradling it against her with her blanketed arms and tugging again to see just how much give it had. Plenty, she assumed, to make it down to the floor with her.

Just as she was squeezing the counter's edge with her other hand though, still clutching the blanket in it as well, she stopped for a second time. All the bright colors in that jar on the corner were drawing her in like bright colors did. As had been determined already, Ashley was still Ashley, and Ashley was only human; she gave in and shuffled over to snag a sucker from the jar. And, always the thoughtful one, she reached in again to grab a second one for Chris, just in case he woke up.

And, what the heck, she took a third, too. These things were for sick and/or injured people and Ash was perfectly sure she qualified as sick and/or injured, it wasn't like she was stealing them or anything - that nurse behind the desk had no right to deny her a third (or fourth) one.

Didn't seem she was even going to try either because she didn't say anything, but when Ashley cast a cautious, totally not guilty glance back at her she was still looking in her direction. All she did was smile again though and go back to her typing. Ash was half-tempted to take another now that she wasn't looking. Who was to say how long her night was gonna be? Not-bro hadn't brought her any snacks and, although the hospital had fed her, their strange orange jell-o didn't have near enough sugar to keep her going. She was running on fumes here.

By the time she finally pressed her shoulders to the counter and slid down to the floor, Ash was squeezing six suckers in her cold, grubby little hands along with an edge of her blanket cloak. All different colors except for the two green apple ones; Chris liked those.

The sound of what was probably a pencil holder clattering over and spilling it's content across the nurse's desk came from above, and Ash guiltily looked up considering the phone cord had probably been the culprit, but the nurse didn't complain. Ashley still offered her a soft apology though; she deserved it just like not-mom had. Having to put up with her and her metaphorical tsunami of bull and such. The squeaking wheels of the nurse's chair accompanied the sound of all the pens being dropped back into their holder. Poor lady had probably just organized those pens or something, and was probably checking to make sure that Ashley felt guilty about knocking them over. Or that she wasn't making off with her telephone or something. Don't worry, lady, blanket nuns don't steal anything but candy.

With a bit of wobbling and a just a dash of more weak grunts, Ashley was able to get comfortable there on the frozen-ass floor. Faintly, she could hear a startled breath above her and, a little less faintly, the sound of pens clacking against each other as the nurse had to stop the cord from knocking their holder over again. Sorry lady, honestly sorry. But it was a hazard of the job, right? Reckless little nuns knocking your shit over, and the occasional view of some old guy's bare ass because, in hospitals, pants were a sin or something. Banned like most of the books on Ash's 'favorites' list.

Speaking of which, as if he'd gotten wind of some gorgeous ladies in desperate need of a view, a fellow pants-less inmate hobbled by much like Ash had been doing not moments ago. Shuffling by in his thicks socks, only _he_ had an IV stand rattling along with his every step; _he_ blended in better. He also didn't look too great.

What wing was this anyways? Trauma? They were certainly traumatized. Or maybe something like... physical therapy? She guessed? Did they even have a wing that specific? With her luck, it was the psychiatric ward. She wouldn't have blamed them. Though they probably wouldn't have let the psych patients roam free, huh?

This hospital was so big that it wouldn't have surprised her to find that there was a maternity ward somewhere, she thought as that old man hobbled a little further away. That was one of the big things that confounded her about hospitals. People died in them every day, but chances were that one floor up there were babies being born.

She whispered another apology to the lady behind the counter, both for her second cord mishap and the terrible views she had to deal with day in and day out, and looked to the phone she was practically coddling. Ashley waited for her anxiety to really settle because of what'd happened in the room, but quickly realized that she just didn't care right now. Her dad 'definitely' wouldn't care right now. She picked up the phone and dialed one like the nurse had directed.

He didn't pick up on the first ring. Not surprising, he never picked up that quick. Ashley drummed her fingers on the side of the receiver; she could imagine him hearing his phone going off to the sound of Benny Hill that she'd set for when she called him, and it made her smile before she realized that it wasn't her phone she was calling from, because her phone was still in the pocket of her hoodie under a tree and a lot of snow where Emily had thrown it.

See, the thing about Mr. Ashley's Dad was that he never picked up until at least the _third_ ring; that was how long it took him to realize that the ringing was definitely coming from 'his' pocket and not someone else's, even if there was no one else in the room, and then proceed to dig out his cell and check the name. But this time Ash didn't hear the third ring. He must've been hovering over his phone this whole time just staring at the screen and waiting, and Ashley suddenly felt horrible again because an extra hour or two after a whole night of forgetting to call because your memory's shit and someone else called you first is a very long time when you think your baby girl is dead or dying or a whole lot worse.

The way-too-thin cloth of her hospital gown was in danger of having a hole torn through it just like her leggings when Ashley stopped strumming and clenched it tight with her fingers and their chipped-off nail polish. She wasn't hungry anymore, but her stomach was growling at her and lurching every which way when she thought of him sitting there in the livingroom, on the carpet between the couch and the coffee table like when they had dinner on hockey nights. Except this time there wasn't any take-out because he didn't eat when he was worried, and the tv was either off or muted because he couldn't think about anything but what he was worried about. She wondered how many times he'd tried calling her and if he was still trying now. She wondered if the Benny Hill Theme would have made him laugh this time like it always did.

He picked up on the second ring and Ashley was already in tears because of that image in her head, and he hardly got a chance to breathe out a hello before her pitiful excuse for coherent English was cracking into the receiver. All blubbery and sad and... _fuck_ \- Sure, it had her permission to break this time.

"...Daddy?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this took _2 months_ to get to y'all. So, _so_ sorry. Ever since new years my days have been non-stop everything goin' wrong. Finally got a break from it all, and I'm glad to finally have this out !!
> 
> Sweet children get a little down time (o˘◡˘o)
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed this fic, I know I really enjoyed writing it! I'm still planning to do a short little epilogue scene, but for now please consider this finished. If you had fun reading, please let me know !! I'd love to hear your thoughts and feels uwu


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